


Reconciliation and Return - Part 1

by godsdaisiechain (preux)



Series: Reconciliation and Return [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Egyptian Mythology, Greek and Roman Mythology, Hindu Mythology, Irish Mythology, Norse Religion & Lore, Torchwood
Genre: AU, Boeshane Peninsula, Ianto!lives, Jack Harkness is the Face of Boe, M/M, Merchant Ivory, Monster sea serpent rally, Multi, Star Wars References, TARDIS - Freeform, Terminator - Freeform, The 456, Various implied pairings - Freeform, thunderbolt fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-07-27 17:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 22,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7627096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preux/pseuds/godsdaisiechain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Harkness is shattered at the loss of Ianto Jones, and John Hart is so desperate to help him that he seeks out the oldest and wisest being in the universe. The Face of Boe reaches into memory and finds a way to save Ianto Jones.  It involves making another Jack out of the scraps that didn't get picked up during "Children of Earth."</p><p>The two halves of Jack pair up with John Hart and Ianto and set off to prevent the 4-5-6 from ever coming back to Earth.  Much shagging eventually ensues. </p><p>Meanwhile, gods and goddesses must interrupt their busy recreational schedules to decide who should be an immortal...or not.</p><p>This is getting a bit merciless, so I'm breaking it into a 2-parter.  NEW BONUS FEATURES</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue:  Jack Harkness Among the Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Good Wife](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7463148) by [godsdaisiechain (preux)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/preux/pseuds/godsdaisiechain). 
  * Inspired by [Atonement](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7457854) by [godsdaisiechain (preux)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/preux/pseuds/godsdaisiechain). 



> I read a really interesting scholarly article about how Jack Harkness is clearly reenacting Welsh mythology and, well, this happened. 
> 
> This is part of an AU where Ianto lives.... it's fairly consistent with Dr. Who and Torchwood canon, although it works around Miracle Day (like preventing it entirely). It's also consistent with the interesting scholarly article.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack, still reeling from losing Ianto again, travels among the stars. John Hart offers a shoulder to cry on. 
> 
> Jack POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adapted from "The Good Wife" which was written for the "crack" challenge at fan_flashworks

Ianto was gone, even his ghost.  The Rift was closed.  And Jack had a ship waiting. 

He didn’t bother to tell Gwen that John was on it.  She’d only screech and object, and Jack didn’t have the energy to deal with her without Ianto there ready to hand him a cup of coffee or a gun or a hankie.  He had never realized how much he depended on Ianto, how close they'd gotten, for all his efforts to keep the beautiful young man at a distance. All Jack knew now was that he needed to leave the world for a while, now that the only place he belonged had been destroyed.

Jack hadn’t fully realized until that terrible, terrible moment that his place was at Ianto’s side, that Torchwood was only his home and his place because Ianto was there, making it for him, quietly, efficiently and with long-suffering patience.  Jack had no choice but to continue on, but he knew now, knew that he’d lost the one person he was meant to stay with.

His heart drew him toward the love John had for him, the deep caring that had sent him looking for Grey.  That had sent him back to Torchwood to save him.  That made him kiss Jack goodbye, even though Jack didn’t respond. 

John.  John who had given him the absolution he craved when things went sideways with Grey.  John: the only one who understood immediately why not being able to die was a bad thing.  A terrible thing.  The worst possible thing. 

Or the worst possible thing until he lost Ianto's ghost--the part of Ianto Jack had hoped he could keep for a few hundred years.

Too bad John was such a jerk in so many other ways.  Like that time he threw him off a building.    What an ass. 

It wouldn’t last, but it would be something as long as it did.

 

*+*+*+*+*+

Jack had wept in Ianto’s arms that night, the last time he saw John, reeling from the loss of Tosh and Owen, but mostly from the realization that John Hart, of all people, was the only one who had had the power to free him from a lifetime of guilt.  Because John had been right, had been the only person who understood exactly what Jack had done and forgiven him. 

“Jack,”  Ianto had murmured at intervals.  “I’m right here.”  And it had been just enough.  No one else had ever meant so much to Jack, not since Angelo, and Ianto would never, ever betray him.  Their affection was too deep for words, for promises. Ianto seemed to know, seemed to understand without being told, that Jack had seen, for a moment, the possibility of losing him and only just started to understand how he felt.  That those moments, getting away from Gwen and patting Ianto down thoroughly all over before looking for Tosh had been more for himself.  That Jack’s heart was in danger…inevitable danger…because of his feelings.  Because sooner or later, no matter what, Ianto would leave Jack behind.

“Are you all right?” Jack had whispered, tears still streaming down his face.  Ianto had stroked his hair and kissed his forehead.

“I’m right here, Jack.”

“Make love to me?” Jack asked.  Ianto paused—they had never called it that before.  Dabbling, boinking, shagging, playing, topping, yes.  Lovemaking. Absolutely not. “Please Ianto.”

Jack could feel Ianto pressing down the memories of Lisa, who had mocked people who used that kind of language.  “I’m right here,” Ianto had murmured, bending to kiss Jack’s forehead, and cheeks, wiping away the tears.  “I’m right here.” Carefully undressing Jack, and gently kissing him, all over, again and again.  “I’m right here,”  he said, just before they both came, and Ianto collapsed on top of Jack sound asleep, his naked weight a reassuring comfort against Jack’s bare chest.

Jack never knew where Ianto had learned to be the kind, gentle lover he was that night.  There was nothing in his background or experience to suggest it, yet there it was, exactly when Jack needed it.  Just as Ianto had, from the first instant of their meeting, been there with exactly what Jack needed. A stick.  Coffee. A pterodactyl.  Chocolate (preferably dark).  A new coat.  Except for those four weeks when Jack was too angry about Lisa to look at Ianto.  Too angry not because Ianto had tried to save a cyberman, but because Ianto, unlike Gwen, had picked someone else without his express permission.

Now nothing was right. He couldn’t even get a decent cup of coffee.  He had never wanted Ianto more than in the pain of losing him.

 

 


	2. Waiting and hoping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Jack are reunited. Tears are shed and pants are dropped.
> 
> John POV

John hopped nervously from foot to foot, his boots clanging softly against the metal deck.  Jack had called.  Jack.  Had called him.  Or sent a message.  “Help me, Obiwan. You’re my only hope.”  Their secret message.  The one Jack forgot when it would have saved his team.  The one he finally remembered, when his heart was shattered into a million pieces in his breast. 

The twittering in John’s heart didn’t stop even when he saw Jack’s almost deathly despair.  Someone had blown up Torchwood… John assumed Jack called because they had to find Grey, who had been recovered from the destruction and made good his escape. John knew by all the threatening messages. 

Jack strode off the deck.  John craned for a peek at Eye Candy. “Where’s….” he started to ask about Ianto, stopped when Jack’s eyes filled with tears. Had Eye Candy dumped him for a faithful lover?  Refused to travel after the murderous younger brother? Been kidnapped? “Come see where we’ll be sleeping.  Or I’ll be sleeping and you’ll be drawing on my face with indelible ink.”

Jack let John take his hand, followed without a word, and sat on the edge of the bunk.  John sat beside him, still clutching his hand.  Something was terribly wrong.  Had Grey  **killed** Eye Candy? “Can you tell me what happened?”

Jack’s head bowed and he choked on a sob.  “That’s all right,” John said.  “I meant it when I told you I love you.”  He reached out, thought better of it and put his hand back down.  Jack had a way of toggling between upset and violence nearly as quickly as John himself. “I really do love you.”

“Even though there’s not a queue for hugs any more?” Jack choked.  John didn’t rise to the bait.  He heard what Jack was not saying.  Eye Candy was gone.

“There’s one in my heart.”  Jack went very still.  “There will always be one in my heart.  Tell me what happened.” Any of Jack's team would have been shocked that he did, in fact, seem to tell John what had happened. Almost everything.  And exactly how he'd felt.  And as he talked, they drew together. "You want to have your cry out?"  Jack shuddered.  "I won't tell anyone."

Jack wept for hours before he quieted, wept so long that John fell asleep and was wakened by the silence.  “Why did you come to Cardiff that time?” he asked, his voice raw  “The canisters? That was bogus. You sent them.”

John sighed.  “I told you before I left.  I found Grey.  I needed to kill you before he got hold of you.  Make it quick.  And then kill myself.  You have no idea what he wanted to do to you.  To your little girl cop. Me.”  John shuddered.  “Death was the best thing I could do.”

“I hid him,” Jack said.  “After they blew everything up.” 

“A detail you failed to mention just now. And not well enough.  He’s loose again.” John forced himself not to shudder, but Jack saw his face draw in, the way it had drawn in when he realized how horrible it must be to not be able to die.  The only person who ever reflexively understood the pain. 

Jack’s heart contracted. John knew there were more missing details...not that they're details.  Steven.  Ianto.  “That isn’t what I meant.  I didn’t know.”  John gasped. “You can’t tell me this isn’t my fault.  All the things I’ve done.”

John’s eyes widened.  What else could possibly have happened? “Maybe I can’t,” said John.  “But I do still love you.”

“I’ll have to tell you what else I did,” Jack said. “And you may not love me after I do.”  John didn’t argue because they never, ever lied to each other about anything serious, except by omission or if one of them was wired to explode.

“I won’t leave you until you’re ready, Jack.  No matter what you tell me.” He gave Jack a squeeze.  “I owe you that much.”  And suddenly Jack felt better.

Jack grinned. “You’re right about being a good wife.” 

“Told you that I’d last longer.”  Jack took a deep breath, but John interrupted.  “What say you we have a nice, long naked romp before you go ruining anything with your sins?”

“Wash your face,” said Jack.  “I don’t trust those lips.” 

John put on his fake innocent face.  “But I thought you liked waking up all tied up and naked.”

“You drew a face around my penis in black ink. It was there for weeks.”

John laughed.  “Little Jack Horny?  That was fun.”

Jack laughed too.  “What the heck were we even taking?”

“Don’t remember. You named yourself after him, didn’t you? Jack?”

Jack closed a hand on John’s cheek.  “I’m sorry I made fun of your laugh lines.”  John nearly melted.  “But this time, I’m drawing.  Drop your pants.”

“Make me,” said John.  And he did.  

Jack kept up  brave front during the day, but John heard him weeping almost every night.  He had to find a way to help.

 


	3. The Face of Boe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John can't seem to help Jack, so he finds the oldest and wisest being in the universe.
> 
> Face of Boe POV

Although he hadn’t lived for billions of years, or even millions, because that would be ridiculous, the Face of Boe had lived a very long time, long enough to forget and then remember again everything he had known and thought and felt as a whole man, with a body he could use for many things.  Now, he could teleport, like a TARDIS through space and time and it pleased him to be thought older than he was.  It displeased him that he sometimes found himself doing this for reasons that seemed small and petty to his present self, a being that had seen the rise and fall of empires and species and galaxies.

This day he had felt it again: the ache, the longing of what was now his secret self.  He found it odd that he missed the sex pleasure less often than other things, like steaming cups of industrial strength coffee or standing on the rooftop over a small city watching a huge creature fly about him holding a small rectangle in a long pointed mouth.  But so it was.  Something was missing.  

The coffee came to him most frequently as a want, and sometimes chocolate, preferably dark, and more faintly, the whisper of wool and silk or the crisp sounds of paper.  Then the feeling of a tongue, a certain tongue, in his mouth, drawing on this life force to awaken.  And in his mind’s eye, he reached.  So he found himself with a human.  Strangely loveable creatures, humans.

“Jack?! Oh my gods, what’s happened to you?” 

It was a voice he knew well, and his first thought was shame at being seen this way.  The next was sorrow that he could not hold this being and kiss his lips and know his flesh, for they had once, in the long, long gone, been lovers.

“Jack?  It’s me.  It’s John.  I know that’s not your real name, but I promised….”

“John…”  The Face of Boe saw his former lover, whole, on two legs and still in the ridiculous red jacket.  Young. Memory flooded back.  Life and adventure and lies and drugs. Hiding.  Trapped yet free.  A body that deeply enjoyed the sex pleasure with this mate.  And yet a craving, even then, for a deeper attachment to life. The desire to burn brightly, so brightly, and then wink out, still whole and new and beautiful. He had given this desire, given it wrongly, many times, but once haunted him. The lover would help.  Had always helped.

“Nice jacket,” said the Face of Boe.  And then a deep, deep sorrow washed over him, because he had promised not to forget and he had, indeed, forgotten.  Buried a wonderful sweetness because of the pain it brought in memory.

“Have you seen…. him?”  he groped for the name, deeper shame because he had promised, promised not to forget.  Shame and sorrow laced his voice.  Then sweet memory.  “Ianto?”

John sighed, reached out and then drew back.  “He’s dead, Jack.  Don’t you remember?”  And then more sorrow, and a lightness came over him.  Memory.

“Save Ianto.”

The Face of Boe knew that John had tried to pick up the pieces of a much, much younger Jack Harkness, with very poor success.  His despair had led him to seek the Face of Boe, the oldest and wisest being in the Universe.  Who turned out to be Jack Harkness (not his real name, but the one John used, because he had promised).  And, as John muttered to himself, bloody useless as usual. “Jack, are you sure…”

“Yes.  Careful.”  And he began to explain.

“That means crossing timelines, Jack.  Mine.  Eye Candy’s.”

“Careful,” said the Face of Boe, “Very careful.”  He outlined events that John would have to work around. 

John cursed then in long, dreadful oaths muttered under his breath.  Some, the Face of Boe had never heard, and this pleased him because so little was ever new and fresh now.  “You bring delight. Good wife” said the Face of Boe, and John Hart froze, because he realized that this immensely powerful being had remembered him of everyone it had known in thousands of years and asked him this important favor because it had loved him once. 

“Sorry, Jack,” John said.  “You’re right.  I owe you a favor.  Let me get a pencil.”

“Not ….me.”  The Face of Boe struggled with human speech now, but he was afraid to let this one touch his mind.  They had too much affinity, too much connection in the deep place, the secret place he kept for only himself now.  “It is …Them.”

John cursed further, and the Face of Boe smiled.  For the deep memory served him today. John had learned those words from him in the times long gone. 

“I suppose I can’t say no because you already know what will happen?” John finally asked.

“Always choice.” said the Face of Boe.  John Hart went white. 

“That’s what he said the last time I saw him,” John whispered.  The Face of Boe became frustrated.  The long gone, the one choice, the choice that always defined him, had faded.  He had forgotten other things.  Other choices.  Other people and the things they said. Ianto said. Sweet Ianto. 

“Please.” The Face of Boe said.  “Save Ianto.  Look after.”  The Face of Boe did not tell John Hart that he needed Ianto for the naming of something, that naming would be his destiny.  The good wife would learn that soon enough.

 


	4. Meanwhile....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is more like a god than he knows.... but what do the gods and goddesses think of the meeting between John Hart and the Face of Boe?

The gods sometimes grew bored and played with the lives of mortals, little knowing that they, themselves were also mortal, and simply excruciatingly long-lived.  Many and many had passed, but it would not do to let the younger ones know.  Not now that they had left their haven on Earth to wander among the stars. 

Nut, the eldest, considered this problem.  She had no real confidante, not now that Gaia had passed beyond, but she enjoyed the logic of Athena.  Unfortunately, Athena was too clever by half.  Nut smiled, pleased with herself at the use of this wording.  By half, she thought again.

“There was some sort of shift,” said Athena.  “Someone, one of Boe has been altered.”  She waved her hand and produced a scroll with ‘The Face of Boe.’  Ah, dear. He is the last of his people.”

“I know,” said Nut sadly.  “He will become this.”

“It will be a horror to this being to learn of this future.”

“We all find tranquility with such things,” Nut said.  Athena’s eyes narrowed and Nut wished she knew an expression like wanting to kick herself rather than curses that had to do with jackals and sand and more jackals.

“I knew it!  We’re not truly immortal, really, are we?  Just very, almost excruciatingly, long-lived.”  Nut said nothing because she was afraid to let slip the part about ‘really, truly excruciating.’  “Nut?” Nut drew a deep breath and Athena gave up. “I have some other news,” she offered. “It’s about Father.” 

Nut’s eyes closed slightly longer than a normal blink, which for her was the equivalent of a facepalm, another word she found delightful.  “I told him not to play with the time vortex.”

Athena paused in the way that showed she was holding back an exasperated sigh.  “There’s more.  The Last of the Boes seeks to alter…” 

Nut raised a hand.  “We all find tranquility in some things,” she said. “This is one way.  We must not interfere, unless to help.”


	5. Scientific accomplishments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Hart, knowing he must save Ianto in order to help Jack, tries science and finds himself in the shadow of death. 
> 
> John POV.

John loved Jack Harkness and that love motivated him throughout a series of terrible trials to save Ianto Jones from death at the hands (or tentacles) of the 4-5-6.  

First, he attempted to shore up Torchwood using alien technology to protect the inner Hub from the explosion. He failed the first time and had to go back. Twice. It turned out to be easier to use quantum states to superposition rubble and destruction on the Hub and then use an observational generator to make one or the other available for entry based on DNA sequences until he could reasonably pretend that Torchwood had been rebuilt.  That also made it easier to find all the many bits and pieces of Jack that had been left behind.   John wept as he gathered every last bit.

Then John donned protective gear and used the TARDIS to collect some of the deadly virus that killed Ianto, and figured out equipment he’d seen Tosh stowing in the Hub, to build an antiviral serum.  He tried it on himself, spent days vomiting between his other tasks, refined it a bit, then snuck back and dosed Ianto’s coffee with it. Finally, he built a clone Ianto and substituted it for the real Ianto while Jack was dead.

It wasn’t quite enough. 

For two days, Ianto lay, hovering between life and death.  John tried regeneration, grafting Time Lord into himself first as a test, then working on Ianto's fragile body. John boosted their DNA with some of Jack’s and tried again.  At the end he couldn't stand.

In his despair, John prayed to every god he could think of, never dreaming that they would hear and answer him. Then, finally, Ianto stirred and asked for Gwen.  John made sure Ianto was sleeping comfortably then went to check on his new Jack, who was in the skinless, bloody screaming stage. 

John closed the door and curled up in a ball and wept.  He gave himself five minutes and then got back to work. 

The Face of Boe trusted him.  He could not disappoint, and he, as yet, had no idea what the gods had made of him.


	6. Meanwhile (2)....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nut agrees to help The Face of Boe, but the other gods are not all equally happy about it.

Zeus kicked disconsolately at a pile of parchments and scrolls that surrounded his seat, mixed in with his thunderbolts so no one else would touch them. The thunderbolts rumbled and sparked. “Are you certain?”  he asked Nut.  "You made an immortal?"

Nut inclined her head.  “I believe so.  This Enduring One, The Face of Boe, has asked a boon.  I saw no reason to refuse him.”

“But Dawn is still so angry about that pretty mortal,” Zeus said.  “She even interrupted our monster sea serpent rally.  Shiva will never let me live that down and now we have to do a Merchant Ivory film festival instead of the Terminator.”  Ganymede snickered and was sent with a message from Freyja to her wandering husband Od.

“Then don’t be so technical,” said Odin.  “Just be reasonable.”

Zeus kicked again.  “It’s easy enough to say, but she’s taken matters into her own hands.”  He waved at Nut who nodded serenely.  Zeus sat up straighter.

“It seemed correct,” said Nut.  “I saw this one walking among the stars.  He’s died and come back to life, visited the underworld and witnessed the end of days.  He has suffered and responded to the universe with love.  Then he gave his only grandson to save the world he thinks of as his.”

Zeus wiped his eyes and Odin pretended to have a frog in his throat. “So he’s already one of us?”

“He is becoming,” said Nut.  “So, I helped him save the ones he loves. They will stay young as long as they exist, heal from their wounds, learn new powers….”

“Impervious to disease?” Odin asked.  “I always forget that one.” Nut said something about sand and jackals that the others took for swearing.

“Never mind,” said Zeus kindly.  “We all make mistakes now and again.  I’m certain we’ll find a place for these new ones of our number.  The love is important.” 

“It sounds nice, certainly,” said Thor, “I apologize for interrupting, but Shiva said the lists for the film festival were here, and I wanted to make sure we add _Enchanted April._ The scenery is just spellbinding. _”_

Zeus threw a thunderbolt at him and Thor deflected it with a hammer. A wrestling match ensued.

“It’s not much of a favor to them,” said Bran, who was attracted by the thunder and caught the end of the conversation.  “Being a god can be a terrible thing.  Is that the film festival list?  I wanted to add _Room with a View._ ”


	7. Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto awakens after John makes good on the first part of his promise. The horror is worse than Ianto could have imagined.
> 
> This is an adapted version the first half of "Atonement," which I wrote for the Fan_flashworks "crack" challenge.
> 
> Ianto POV

**Ianto**

He woke to the sounds of moaning.

The room whirled around when Ianto opened his eyes, so he closed them. Someone moaned again. A gentle hand settled on his shoulder before he understood that the sounds like a dying cow were him.  Where was he?  Had that thing done something to Jack?  The hand stroked his hair, sending a contented noise from his lips, but Ianto knew the touch was too soft for it to be Jack. 

“Gwen?" The one word nearly cracked Ianto's skull open like an overripe melon, but it was important and he kept talking. "Did they save the kids?”

“Is that you awake, Eye Candy?”  John Hart’s voice was recognizable even as it cracked with some unidentifiable emotion. Ianto scrabbled for a gun or a blunt object, his hand closing only on Egyptian cotton sheets.  His sheets. John Hart was in his bedroom.  And he thought things couldn’t possibly be any worse.  “Eye Candy?” John took Ianto’s hand and squeezed gently. “Yes, they saved the kids.” 

Ianto’s eyes opened.  The room spun sickeningly around the face of John Hart, looking drawn and worried, and Ianto closed his eyes again. Threats bubbled up. “I’ll k…”  Ianto gagged, felt John pull him up and hold a bucket under his face while he vomited.  That took a long while and left Ianto doubled over limply after a solid minute of dry heaving during which John said, “you’re okay,” and “relax, Eye Candy,” and "almost done," while rubbing his back and finally tucking an arm under his chest to hold him up. 

John rushed the bucket into the loo and came back with a wet washcloth and a glass of ice. 

“Rinse your mouth, Eye Candy,” John said, tucking an arm around Ianto while he leaned forward “Don’t swallow too much.”  He held a basin for Ianto to spit the ice cube back into.  Ianto was too weak to struggle against the reassuring feeling of those capable hands on his aching body.  “It’s the virus… and some other things.  I had to do something I’d have preferred not to try….” A sort of whimper escaped Ianto’s throat. He slipped, nearly falling from the bed and John let the basin fall to the floor to close him in strong, warm arms.  “Careful,” he said, gasping, and pressing Ianto’s head against his chest protectively. For the first time, Ianto understood what Jack might have found attractive in that reflexive affection. “But that will keep. You’ll be very ill for a few days until it all sorts itself out." Ianto tried to smooth his sweaty hair. John pushed it back for him, almost fondly. "And don't worry. You are delicious, even like this.”

“Where’s Jack?” Ianto whispered as John tucked him back into his bed and gently mopped his face with the washcloth and gave him another sliver of ice to wet his mouth.

“Don’t worry that pretty, pretty head. Your Jack will be here soon enough.  Do you need the loo?”  Ianto’s eyes widened in horror at the thought of John helping him. “Close your eyes and rest.”  He rubbed the space between Ianto’s eyebrows with his thumb the way Ianto’s sister sometimes lulled the children to sleep.  “Hush now.”  Ianto’s eyes fluttered shut before he had a chance to wonder what John had meant by that.

 


	8. Disbelief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack regains consciousness after being blown up. Little does he know that he is Jack #2... made from all the leftover bits John Hart scraped together. (This is adapted from part 2 of "Atonement")
> 
> Things will be a bit confusing as there are two Jacks. 
> 
> Jack (#2) POV

 

**Jack**

Pain. Agony. Agony and pain. Pain and agony.  The universe was nothing but pain.  

It took quite a while before he realized the screams were his. The last time he'd felt anything like this was when he'd been buried alive for nearly two thousand years. Back then, once the oxygen was gone from his lungs, the dirt had muffled his breath almost before he realized he couldn't breathe. It hadn't been the worst, if he was honest with himself. That was the rift demon, that froze him slowly from the inside, ripping out his very soul again and again.  He hadn't thought anything could be worse than that, but this feeling came close.

“Jack?”  John’s lips found his forehead.  Jack tried to pull away, to get a better look at his agonized expression, but John bounced back sheepishly, clearly thinking Jack was offended.  “Sorry about invading your territory, but I was that worried. You’re not quite finished. I had to make do with scraps, but I was able to get them all, I think.” 

That sounded bad, even from John.  “Scraps?”  

“They got the best bits…most of the head.  An arm.  I had to make do with a few brain fragments, some fingers, teeth, and a leg.  Kind of cracked up, but still…”

Jack’s eyes flew open. “They? Bits?” He’d never been blown up before.  He didn’t like it. 

“Who knew that we could grow back two of you?”  John asked with a brittle cheerfulness.  “Well, you may have.  It wasn't pretty.  But I salvaged you a wristband.  Not as big as the last one, but big enough.”  He rubbed Jack’s naked thigh, then pulled the blanket to cover him again without a single suggestive comment.  

“What?” Jack tried to sit up, tipped back when John pushed him down against soft pillows.  Ianto’s pillows.  He was in Ianto’s guest room.  John Hart was in Ianto’s flat.  Ianto would have a fit.  Come to think of it, why was Ianto not responding to the screams and whacking John in the back of the head with a cricket bat? Or, better yet, shooting him with a taser?  He looked up to see the quilted material lining the room. “Sound barrier? John, what the f*ck? Where are my pants?”

John took his hand, which was unusual.  Jack grew terribly frightened when he realized John trembled with something other than naked desire. There should have been some jokes about sex and a pass by now. This was not like him. “You have to listen, Jack.  It’s serious.”  Jack’s initial horror gave way to surprise, then sadness, then profound and utter grief, as he heard what had happened—that Ianto had died—and then what John had done.  “I went back and I saved him for, er, you.  Eye Candy.  But he wouldn’t… I didn’t think he would be, well, without you.  And you, well…you’re a mess.  So I went back and forth a bit and got a you together for him.  One that hadn't done such ....  But who am I to talk? And I got some sort of serum together against the virus.  It works.” 

Tears rose in Jack’s eyes.  “He’ll never forgive me if he finds out all the things I’ve done,” he whispered, not yet knowing that he had killed Steven and let Ianto die without uttering a single word of love.  He already knew that he never chose to put his family, the people he loved—or was supposed to love—first.  And that that would be the thing Ianto could not forgive.

“Maybe,” said John, trying unsuccessfully to seem unperturbed. “But he might not.  And you’ll have a lot of time to figure that out. And he… well he has a certain something, Jack. I see it more clearly now. Besides the shockingly good looks.” 

This generosity of spirit was not like John. Jack was bewildered, took John's hand and pressed it against his face. “Why? Why did you…”

“Because I could never forgive myself.”  John said, stroking Jack's hair with the opposite hand.  “I told you.  I said I’d make it up to you for burying you alive.  For not going back and retrieving you sooner.  And you can see I've not quizzed you once about ignoring my scientific accomplishments.”

Jack sat up.  “I knew all that rehab was a bad idea.  Can I see him?”

John gave Jack his mischievous grin. “As if I needed any rehabs.”  Jack started to get up. “Maybe wait until your ears grow back.”  John lifted the covers. “And the rest of your feet.”

The next morning, Jack insisted on getting up, and John let him have his way. Seeing Ianto’s grey sweaty face hit Jack like a bottle through his gut, a sensation he was sadly familiar with back in the days when he lived out of a suitcase.  John (who didn’t even have a suitcase to his name and was wearing Ianto’s oversized castoffs) moved forward easily, pressed a towel against Ianto’s brow. Jack was reminded of the better days when they had been caught in the time loop.

“He’s looking better today.  Aren’t you, Eye Candy?” Ianto moaned faintly.  Jack sank to the floor, head in his hands.  John turned, bewildered.  “Jack?”  Jack—he mentally referred to himself as #2—didn’t move.

John’s face took on the thoughtful quality it had when he realized the horror of Jack’s inability to die.  It wasn’t simply the pain of coming back to life that would be an endless torment: it was facing the mortality of the people he loved, again and again, the fear of loss. “He’s healing, Jack,” John tried again, more gently this time.  “Hasn’t thrown up all day.”  Jack couldn't bring himself to move.

"I didn't know.  I didn't believe you."  And so, Jack realized that Ianto had very nearly died without a word of love from him.

 


	9. Brotherly duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John convinces Jack #2 that Ianto is out of danger, then lets him go find Grey. 
> 
> John POV.

John mopped Ianto's face with a damp cloth. "He looks better, Jack. He'll live. Truly."

“I didn’t believe you.”  Jack, Jack # 2 who had just grown back his toes after being blown to tiny bits, looked up and John felt his heart twist at the tearful anguish on that well-beloved face.  “I didn’t believe he died. I thought you were just winding me up. I knew he’d leave me behind one day. I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“It wasn’t easy,” John said.  “The antiviral wasn’t enough.  I had to…” John took a deep breath, then didn’t say anything because he did not know how to start.  Jack’s screams had nearly killed him. “I tried it on myself, first. Not pleasant.”  

“You what?!”

“It could have destroyed whatever was left of him if it had gone wrong.  I had enough of your DNA left in me to work with.”  John winked.  “Which was lucky, because it nearly killed me, too. Now come over here and kiss Eye Candy better.  He’s been asking for you.”

Jack stood unsteadily and approached the bed.  He kissed Ianto’s forehead, then turned and left the room, his face working as he fought back sobs.  John watched Ianto’s eyes open and fill with tears and his fingers stretch as if to grab Jack's hand, but Jack couldn’t stop himself. He paused at the threshold, shoulders heaving, but kept moving.

John watched sadly, his heart twisting again, this time in tenderness, then pressed Ianto’s shoulder.  “Admit it, Eye Candy, secretly—so secretly you don’t even know it—you prefer me above anyone anyway.”  Ianto rolled his eyes and fell back asleep without shrugging John off.  That was new.  John found himself smoothing Ianto's hair.

John shook himself, then followed Jack a few moments later, held him while he sobbed. "I have to go," Jack finally gasped. "I can't stay here."

“Jack, that isn’t right,” he said.  “He almost died.  He needs you.  I'm not at all what he needs right now.”

“Not like this,” Jack said. “I’m useless to him like this.  I have to find Grey.”

“Especially like this,” said John. “He loves you. He needs to see how much you care about him.” Jack wouldn’t understand what John meant until years later.  “I can find Grey.”

“No, John,” said Jack.  “I owe Grey that much.  He’s my brother.  Please take care of Ianto for me.”

“Jack,” John started.  “You can spare Eye Candy a few hours. Hold his hand.  Talk to him a while. It would mean a lot to him.”

“Please, John. You’re doing so well with him. I couldn't, and I need him to get better.”

They argued and finally, as always, one of them gave in and it wasn't Jack. “All right,” said John.


	10. Parting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack comes back from an unpleasant errand to see how Ianto is doing. Ianto is sick and a little fed up with the disappearing act.
> 
> Ianto POV
> 
>  
> 
> Adapted from the story I wrote for the "suitcase" challenge on Fan_flashworks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the reconstructed Jack who didn't see Ianto die and doesn't know about House of the Dead.

 

**Ianto**

He had never been so profoundly embarrassed in his life.  Until he almost started crying in front of John Hart, the very last person he had ever wanted to see him like this.  That virus had nearly killed him, and the things that had been done to cure him were almost as bad.  His stomach was empty, a mixed blessing as he hung over the side of the tub, dry heaving into a basin. 

“I’m sorry, Eye Candy.  I’m sorry.”  John Hart, squatting down beside the tub, sounded as if he wanted to cry himself.  He had rolled up the sleeves on one of Ianto’s shirts that was in the pile to be repaired after Jack had torn it off him one evening in the Hub.  Ianto retched, feeling as if his stomach was about to leave his throat.  “Try to relax.  It’s all right.”

John kept one hand on Ianto’s bare back and the other on his forehead and the reassurance of it almost frightened Ianto. “Did I hurt you? Do you want more paracetamol?”  The water, draining from the tub, gurgled sympathetically.  Ianto, shivered, watching the skin goosepimple over his ribs.

“N-no,” Ianto forced out between heaving breaths as John helped him stand up and wrapped him in a fluffy towel, keeping his hands above Ianto’s waist.  The towel had been warmed and Ianto sighed at the feeling of comfort, not just the towel, but the strong arm around his back.  So he kept talking, even though it was in his nature to remain quietly reserved. “It’s just the sense of unwarranted and humiliating personal violation, John. Paracetamol won’t help that, I’m afraid. 

“Fair enough. I’m genuinely sorry,” said John, lifting him, too easily, over the side of the tub, and handing him a glass of water to rinse his mouth. “It’s okay, I’ll hold you up.  I couldn’t leave you like that.  It looked painful and who knows when Jack will be back to see to your carnal needs.”  He shifted so Ianto could set down his feet more firmly on the bath mat.  “Lucky sod.”

Ianto moved to keep from hitting his head on the doorway as they sidled out. “Haven’t you heard of cold water?  Or, I don’t know…privacy?”

John helped him into the chair next to his bed and draped a towel over his wet hair. “What are you on about, Eye Candy?”

Ianto tried to keep himself decently covered.  “Delayed gratification. Tact. Appropriate personal boundaries.”

John adjusted the bath sheet and then rubbed Ianto’s head in the towel.  “Those are really not my sort of thing, Eye Candy. Besides, I tried not to wake you.  You would never have been any the wiser.” 

Ianto rubbed cream into his beard with trembling fingers. “Remind me to show you the tea video.  Unconscious people do not want tea.”  John had, somehow, brought him into the future, and Ianto had been catching up slowly.

“Not seeing the connection,”  John hung the towels up neatly to dry.  Not for the first time, Ianto marveled at John’s willingness to keep the flat looking like his home. “I’ve been made responsible for your well being. You’ll be stronger in a day or two and can take care of that yourself.” 

“Bring the laptop and I’ll show you.”  John pulled back the covers on the bed. “You changed the sheets,” Ianto said, surprised.  John had chosen the cozy flannel sheets, the ones that Ianto loved to feel against his bare skin but Jack said smothered him.  “My favorite sheets.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said John, propping him up with pillows and opening a box.  “They looked cozy. We’re out of jammy dodgers, but I have chocolate.  Dark.”  Ianto took a nougat, thought better of it and tried a mint.  He sniffed it, gagged, and then set it on the nighttable in a small dish John had thoughtfully left him.

“Eye Candy, does this so-called ‘delayed gratification’ involve any actual gratification?” John called from the kitchen.

“Yes,” Ianto answered.  “A great deal, in fact.” John came back with a steaming mug of coffee. He’d taken to sitting by the bed, reading aloud or streaming videos until Ianto fell back asleep.  Technical reports and science fiction mostly, but Ianto didn’t bother to complain, even when he woke up and found John asleep, his head resting on the mattress. Ianto’s nostrils twitched.  Coffee.  He wanted coffee with every fiber of his being. “Help me up,” he said.  “Where are my pyjamas?”

“Why?” 

“I want coffee.”

“You can have this.”  Ianto rolled his eyes again and sat up, trying to swing his feet to the floor but tangling himself in the sheet and nearly toppling over. John set down the coffee and caught him. “You can’t stand on your own, Eye Candy.”

“You can hold me up.”  John shrugged and helped Ianto into a t-shirt, a set of navy plaid pyjama bottoms, which fell off because he had grown too thin for the elastic, then a robe and socks. John pulled up the pyjamas and tightened the drawstring.   “Stop staring.”

“You’re well worth looking at,” John said, unabashedly.  “And from me that means something.  Nice pyjamas, by the way.” 

Jack walked in about twenty minutes later to find Ianto operating his coffee machine, John’s arm slung casually around his waist.  Ianto yanked John’s hand up by the thumb as it strayed too near his bottom.  On the laptop, a video about sexual consent and tea played.

John noticed Jack first, raised his eyebrows. “Three days,” said John conversationally.  “Must have been quite a queue at the shop. Did you at least bring the biscuits?”  Jack pulled a crushed paper bag from his pocket.

“May I cut in?”  John slipped away and started inserting bread into a toaster.  Jack had been afraid to touch it after the first time he’d been to Ianto’s home.  The thing went up in sparks when you stuck knives in to retrieve the bread. He’d killed himself twice. Jack wrapped a trembling arm around Ianto.  “Hey, you’re up.”

“Hello Jack,” Ianto said, keeping his eyes on the coffee machine.  John pretended to shiver.

“You want any help there?” Jack said, kissing Ianto’s cheek. “I could give you a shave? Maybe a sponge bath?”

“Not right now, thanks.” Ianto concentrated on the coffee.  It had been almost a week since he made coffee and he didn’t want anything to spoil it.  Especially not Jack. Either Jack.   He wasn’t sure why he was so angry that there were two, but he had begun to feel some sympathy for John Hart’s whining that Jack never wanted to spend time with him. And that made him even angrier. 

“You okay?” Jack gathered Ianto closer, pressed his face into the damp hair, kissed him again.  Ianto felt himself responding to the closeness of the man he loved, grew annoyed with himself because he was too weak to pull away.

“Fine.  You?” 

John, neatly setting out plates and butter, raised his eyebrows, his mouth in an “o,” considered several snide remarks, discarded them, and decided to leave the room.

Jack watched as a coffee cup filled, then another.  “I love you,” he said midway through the third.

“I know,” said Ianto. John had played him all the _Star Wars_ movies, twice. Jack’s arm dropped and Ianto slumped against the counter. “A little help, please.  I can’t stand on my own.  Or did you think I wanted his arm around me?”

“Sorry,” said Jack, helping Ianto to the couch, then running back for the coffees, draining his as soon as he sat down.  “You know?! Is that all you have to say?”

“I saw your face when that thing tried to kill me.  I heard your voice,”  Ianto paused because his own voice was starting to shake.  “I know it wasn’t technically you, but it was you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said.  “I was a complete jerk. I just hate ….”

“…the word couple,” Ianto said.  “So you said. Me too.”

Jack nodded, grasped his knee, which was sadly inadequate. Ianto, still feeling desperately weak, wanted to be held and soothed back to sleep then wake up in Jack’s arms. “And you never had a chance to say so.  Gwen told me.”

“Gwen told you,” Ianto repeated, torn between gratitude that she cared enough to try to mend things between him and Jack and irritation that it took Gwen to tell Jack the right thing to do.  That he listened to her, allowed her in.

Jack opened his mouth, and Ianto was just beginning to hope that he’d apologize so that there could be crawling into his lap and cuddling, then drifting off to sleep in those arms, when John Hart walked back in, took a sip of coffee, and drained the mug.  He let loose a series of groans and collapsed on the couch next to them, arching his back dramatically, a small stain spreading on the crotch of the pale grey pyjama trousers he’d borrowed without asking.  “Eye Candy, this coffee is orgasmic.  Literally. My coffee is swill by comparison.”   

Jack threw a pillow, catching John in the face.  “Yuck! Get a room, John.  That’s disgusting.”

John threw the pillow back, narrowly missing Jack’s head.  “I’m hurt.  You used to enjoy that. Couldn’t get enough of it.”  He set down the empty coffee cup.  “And admit it… you felt the same way the first time you drank his coffee.”

“I’m not fully past the vomiting stage,” Ianto said.  “You can keep those pyjamas, by the way.”

John picked up a grey plaid blanket, tossed it into Ianto’s lap.  “Here, Eye Candy, cover up before you get a chill.”

“I have to tell you some things, and I’m afraid you won’t like me afterwards,” Jack said as Ianto struggled to unfold the heavy wool with one hand without spilling his coffee.  John stood up to help, blocking Ianto’s expression from Jack with an arm.

“I know,” Ianto and John said in unison. 

“I was talking to Ianto,” Jack said.  John rolled his eyes as Ianto waved him off.

“I have something to tell you, too,” said John.  “But you already don’t like me.” Ianto snorted.  “Right, Eye Candy?”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Speak for yourself, John.”

“I’m going to take a cold shower,” John said, kicking Jack in the leg. 

Jack started, then pulled the blanket open over Ianto’s lap.  They sipped their coffee in silence while water ran in the bathroom.  “What was that all about?”

“Nothing important,” Ianto said.  Aside from the jammy dodgers, which were beginning to make him nervous, he hadn’t been able to keep anything down except buttered toast and chocolate, preferably dark, but Jack would have known that if he’d stayed around, like a man who cared about his partner.  “Where have you been?”  He could have kicked himself at how petulant that sounded, but Jack hadn’t even put an arm around him and he felt raw and wounded and in need of comfort.  “Anything interesting?”

“Looking for Grey.  He wasn’t in his cryo chamber when I checked.”

Even Ianto had to admit that finding a murderous brother bent on mass destruction was more pressing than holding a basin for him to vomit in.  “He escaped?” said Ianto, wondering why he couldn’t quite bring himself to care more.  It was Jack’s mess.  Let him clean up after himself for a change. “I thought everything was destroyed by that bomb.”

“John did something to prevent everything from blowing up.  Just me and the information booth.”  Ianto didn’t answer. “Are you angry with me? Ianto?” 

Suddenly, Ianto was livid.  “You let me die without telling me that you loved me,” he said in a still, quiet tone.  Jack’s mouth opened.  “I know, technically it was the other one, but you would have done the same thing.”  Jack’s mouth closed. “I deserved the conversation about being a couple or whatever we wanted to call it.  Or didn’t want to call it. Or not.”  His face went pink and he lifted his mug of coffee to his mouth, drank.  “I know deathbed ‘I love you’s’ are really desperation, and  I know you have a job to do, and looking for your brother is horrible, worse than anything I can imagine, and I’m not all alone.  I know I’ve been well cared for, better than you would have done. But you didn’t even call. Not me. Not even John.”

Jack grasped at the last straw. “He could have lied.”

“I didn’t ask.  I checked his wrist strap. He keeps leaving it off.”  Jack’s eyebrows lifted. “The scar worries him.”

“I didn’t think you knew how to do that.”

“I know how to do a lot of things you don’t know about.”  Jack sighed and took Ianto’s hand, which should have been better than nothing, but somehow was worse.

“How has John been to you?” Jack finally asked. "Has he been taking good care of you?"

“Kind,” Ianto said without thinking.  The sexual remarks were irritating, but John had offered to retcon him when he needed help in the loo.  Jack would not have done half as well. “He's been really thoughtful,” said Ianto “Apologetic.”

“Ianto,” Jack said.  “I told you once that the man I am now is what’s important.  That man was what I was proud of.  I’ve done other things, though. One of the worst of them was right in that room with us.  And that’s what killed you—something I did when I was not a good man.  I can’t pretend to be just the man I’m proud of any more.  There are things I have to take care of and I can’t involve people who love me, especially not you.”

“So you didn’t say you loved me and you ran away when I needed you because you feel unworthy?” 

“And some other things,” Jack said.  “I don’t want you to know everything.  It’s too much.  I don’t want that for you.”

They looked at each other for a long time before Jack looked down.  “I think you’d better go deal with your other problems, Jack,” Ianto said. “I’m not strong enough. I don’t have anything more to give you just now.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, lifting Ianto’s hand and kissing the back of it.  “I do love you.”

“I know,” Ianto said.  “And I understand, but you’d better go.” He let Jack hug him and kiss his head, hating himself for craving that beloved touch, for wanting to curl up in his arms and sleep.

As the door clicked shut behind Jack, John reappeared, wrapped in Ianto’s spare robe, the one he’d kept around for Jack (who had never used it, preferring to wander around the flat naked), a towel over his wet hair. The wide scar from where Grey had strapped a bomb to him showed pinkly. “I’m sure you’ll both  be happy to be shut of me.”  Ianto didn’t respond, even to look when the toaster popped open.  “Where’s Jack? Did you send him back out for biscuits that weren’t crushed…” His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the expression on Ianto’s face.  

Ianto fought back tears, feeling abject shame at his own helplessness for the second time that day.  John eased himself down on the couch, the towel dropping from his head into Ianto’s lap. “Do you need that paracetamol?” Ianto opened his mouth but nothing would come out. John’s face puckered in concern.  He reached out and touched Ianto’s shoulder. “Ianto? What happened? Where’s Jack?” 

It was the first time John had ever used his name, and Ianto, exhausted, bowed his head and sobbed, just once. He could not, would not, let himself really cry in front of John Hart. It was the last shred of dignity he had left.  Startled, John squeezed his shoulder and made the soothing noise he’d used to lull Ianto to sleep those first terrible days of illness.  It was just enough to help Ianto keep his composure. “I sent him away.”

John tousled the damp hair.  “Good for you, Eye Candy. Good for you.”  Ianto looked up in shock at the warm, approving tone.  It was the first time John had ever spoken to him as if to an equal. “I didn’t think you’d have it in you, hero-worshipping him the way you do.  He should have told you about his past, who he really was.” John let go and busied himself with the toast while Ianto wiped his face with the towel.  “You, especially, deserved a bit more of a chance.”

“In all fairness, I was a broken shell when Jack and I started up,” Ianto said.  “I was broken and he saved me.”

“Fair enough, Eye Candy, but he’s had years to tell you the rest,” John replied, reappearing with a plate of cinnamon toast triangles and strawberry jam toast sandwiches, all with the crusts cut off. “Toast!”

“You **_are_** a good wife,” Ianto said, waggling a piece of toast. “I’m impressed.” John chuckled. Ianto continued.  “When you first asked us if we knew about Jack.  You really meant it, that we didn’t know who we were protecting.  It wasn’t just jealousy. Mostly, of course, but not all.”  He took a bite of toast, closed his eyes.  “Wow.  That’s tasty.”

“Eye Candy, you are some kind of all right.  Oi!  Don’t hog the jam ones.”


	11. Meanwhile 3 -or- Goddesses book club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The goddesses discuss pride, prejudice, and the recent developments in the realm of immortals. Nut is confused by Jane Austen's fiction and Athena is assigned to evaluate events at Torchwood.

Athena liked walls and boundaries.  They structured the universe and brought order out of chaos.  So, when she roamed, walls grew up around her, then shifted to make sense of the world.

“Could we have a window?”  Isis asked.  She liked things open to the skies.  Athena waved a hand and the room transformed into an open pavilion, draped with brightly-colored silks and garlands of flowers. 

“This is all very pretty,” said Freyja.  “Is there a special occasion?” 

“Let’s wait for the others,” Nut said.  She was the eldest of their number and sometimes chose the scrolls.  “Who chose this odd book?”  She held up a copy of _Pride and Prejudice._ “Should not women do more than marry?”

Freyja laughed.  She joined the circle between Brigid and Arianrhod.  Shiva and Lakshmi took places on opposite sides of Rhianna and Penarrdun, who were in close conversation.  Eris and Yggdrasil came in, last as usual, arguing amicably after their game of targets. They started a bit early so that Shiva could go to the “Terminator” movie marathon in Vahalla. 

The goddesses discussed their book and rejected Jane Austen for their number.  “Perhaps that George Gissing?” asked Leto. Isis laughed.

“Boring,  And a man.” she said, consuling the dust jacket of _The Odd Women_.  

“This is so confusing.  George Sands and George Eliot were women.” 

“Yes,” said Sek-met.  “It is confusing but this was in a time when women were forbidden to write.”

“Emily Bronte?” Leto tried again, uncertainly.  “Her work showed some merit.”

“She won’t come without her sisters and they are all **_so_** depressing.” 

“Better than this overly romantic nonsense.  We don’t define ourselves by men.”

“Speaking of which,” said Brigid.  The goddesses devolved into the usual argument about whether to use “which” or “who” (or “whom”) to refer to people.  Nut, as usual settled the matter by saying it didn’t matter.

“I have little use for languages with so many extra words. There’s a new Welsh god under consideration.” 

The goddesses all stopped talking.  “What?  Who?”

“Something to do with those Gallifreyans.”  The goddesses sighed as one.  The Time Lords were bothersome, even if they were useful.

Nut waved a hand and a scroll appeared.  She scanned it and sighed. “Now there are two. Whose turn is it to record?”

“Mine,” said Athena.  “Would you like me to review the cases?”

“Yes,” the others chorused.

“And make sure we do it properly.  Dawn is still terribly hurt by that immortal but not ever young business.”

Lakshmi had missed that particular argument, having been out saving lives at the time.  “Can’t you make him younger yourselves?”  she asked. 

Athena’s brow furrowed.  “He got stuck at about 50, and Dawn thinks he’s a bit boring now that he’s not quite as pretty. Apparently they never did very much talking.”

“He’s quite lovely, actually,” Ganymede said.  He’d come in to drop off battenburg and some mulled wine. “Just lovely.”   

“I see,” said Lakshmi. 

“I’ll get you some of those nice jammy dodgers,” said Freyja, glancing at the scroll.  “Perhaps we should claim one for our circle?”

The goddesses laughed as one.  “Whose turn is it to choose the next scroll?” Nut asked.  “I have been curious about this Harry Potter.”


	12. Conciliations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which:  
> Ianto brings Myfanwy back to Torchwood.  
> John teaches Ianto about Daleks and asks for help with the 4-5-6.  
> Ianto gives John wardrobe advice...albeit indirectly.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still the Jack who was made up of random bits and doesn't know exactly what happened at the end of CoE or Miracle Day or House of the Dead

**Ianto**

Enough of Torchwood had been salvaged to house Myfanwy, and Ianto’s first job had been to find her and bring her home.  John had given him a wrist band “just like Jack’s” as a get-well present.  “It will come in handy,” he said, “Since I promised to train you to be a Time Agent.” By an unspoken agreement, they did not discuss Jack unless Ianto brought him up.

So, it was not the sort of present Ianto wanted.  It meant something.  The wrist band wasn’t ‘like’ Jack’s.  It was Jack’s, although that wasn’t the only name in it.  Not that Ianto thought they were Jack’s real name, either.

“It’s bigger than yours.” Ianto adjusted the leather wrist band as small as it would go, then shoved it up his arm to make it stay put. It felt strange to be wearing jeans, old skinny jeans, but his suits were all too big. “Why is it bigger?”

“Mine lasts longer,” said John. “Battery to power ratio. Better for field work. Jack’s more of an action man. Now pay attention because I have no patience for this sort of thing. Teaching.  Unless you’d like to…”  He reached for Ianto’s belt buckle.  “Now that you’ve started to put some weight back on.” Ianto deflected him with a well-placed elbow.

“Flattering,” said Ianto in the tone that meant it was not flattering at all, but in fact vaguely repugnant, “but no, thanks.”

John grinned.  “Flattering? I’m making progress. Time was that you’d punch me in the face for that type of remark, Eye Candy.”

“I now know you’d enjoy that a bit too much.” John sometimes liked things rough—Ianto had happened upon the evidence of some of his encounters with Jack and Jack’s with a few others during the reboot of Jack’s computer, which consolidated all of the files before and after the Hub had been damaged. Ianto also found an assortment of videos of himself, which would have been more endearing and less humiliating if they had been stored somewhere other than the desktop in a folder labeled “Ianto naked” with no password protection.   He realized he’d been dead, but still.  He would have safeguarded naked pictures of Lisa, if he’d thought to take any.

Watching the videos, Ianto had grown to understand that what he had found to be nearly avant garde in Jack’s dabbling had been fairly vanilla by Jack’s previous standards.  His feelings about that seemed almost clinical, as though they belonged to someone else. “We’re going shopping after this.  Getting you some decent clothes.”  John whined, but Ianto pushed two buttons, bringing up an image of a naked John saying ‘help me Obiwan!’

“You’ve been paying attention, Eye Candy.  That’s good.”  Ianto rolled his eyes.

“I always pay attention.  How do you think we found Gwen in time when you poisoned her?”

“I _said_ I was sorry about that,” John said, fingering his lips with an impish grin. “It was kinder than what Grey had planned for her.”

“Why are you so concerned about training me?  I thought the Time Agency was nearly gone.”

John shuffled his feet.  “Two reasons.  First, the Time Agency is nearly gone. Second, the Time Lords helped me, and I promised. Hence, we have a TARDIS. How did you set everything back up?  I thought you were officially dead.”

Ianto ignored the question.  No point in mentioning any of the many back doors Tosh had helped him build into the Torchwood systems.  Clearly, Jack #2 had pulled some strings or, more likely, Jack #1 had simply forgotten to file all the right paperwork.  He’d always left that for Ianto to do—Ianto’s first job at Torchwood had been cleaning up the impressive amount of paperwork Jack had left undone since January 1, 2000. “Time Lords?”

“Yes. Time Lords.  Gallifreyans, they call themselves.”

“Like the Doctor?  The one that Jack’s always talking about in his sleep?”

“Yes.  That’s why I made you watch all those episodes of _Dr. Who._   They’re ridiculous, but it gives you some idea what it all means.”  John pressed a button, projecting an image of a real Dalek. Seven feet tall.  Able to cover 50 feet in half a second.  Ianto stood his ground with difficulty as the hologram passed over him.  Myfanwy screeched and dropped a bar of dark chocolate. “ ** _This_** is a Dalek.  Note the absence of plungers and the presence of actual weapons.  Thankfully, they’re easily distracted because they really like to destroy things that seem smaller and weaker than they are.” John played an image of the sixth Doctor deflecting and then destroying a dozen Daleks with a handful of tiny droids that looked almost exactly like jelly babies.  “I thought the ambiance down here was terrible, but for Daleks, it’s perfect.”  Myfanwy screeched again and Ianto tossed the chocolate bar back up to her.

“I see what you mean.  I suppose this explains the cravings for fish fingers and custard,” Ianto said thoughtfully. “I used to hate both of those.”

“Now you’ve got me started.”  Ianto fished a packet of jammy dodgers out of a drawer, tossed it over.  “Thanks, Eye Candy. You really are amazingly good at organizing.  This place is immaculate, and I note that every scrap of paperwork has been sent on.” Ianto ducked his head and smiled.

Images of Daleks and destruction filled the room. “Are you going to tell me the real reason they helped you?  It could hardly be because of true love.”  Ianto made notes about the different types of daleks, wishing Tosh were there to help. “Jack always said they were just keeping him for something, like the way we kept Tommy.”

John choked on his biscuits, then washed them down with a healthy swig of vodka. “They mentioned needing someone to contain the 4-5-6.  Someone immune to their viruses.”  Ianto nodded grimly.  He’d never intentionally killed anything sentient before, but he was willing to start.  John continued, “They were asked, by someone …influential.”

“And you promised that I’d do this?” Ianto’s voice was careful, as if he knew he was treading on more sensitive ground than the Time Lords. John Hart would never have spoken for him, even though he had knowingly condemned him to an eternity of existence.

“I said I’d take care of it. It was all for… um, ah, er, Jack,” John said.  “I’d do a lot of things for him.”  Ianto thought back to Grey.  John had spent years looking and had nearly killed all of them by trying to help Jack reunite with his brother.  Then he’d told Jack it wasn’t his fault, made him feel better, finally, about the worst day of his life.  Ianto had been on the walkway, behind a pillar, when John told Jack it wasn’t his fault that Grey had been taken, that Jack himself had been only a boy.  The day Jack refused to kiss John on the lips—the very first time Jack had turned down any advance from any woman or man he was even remotely attracted to.  He always cheated, but that day he shifted to cheating remarkably less.  Or at least less that Ianto saw.

“What’s his real name? Jack?” Ianto wondered.

John cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Eye Candy,” he said, sounding genuinely sorry. “I promised not to tell anyone.” 

It was the right answer. “Fair enough. I’m coming with you,” Ianto said.  “Or helping you with whatever you need.”

John’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “I thought it was time that Jack cleaned up his own mess, Eye Candy? Isn’t that what you told him? It had to be something like that to get him to leave you.”

Ianto shrugged.  He was on entirely new ground where it came to Jack, no longer trailing after him, cleaning up. “I’m not doing it for him. It’s for those kids.”  He shook a biscuit from the packet, lifted it toward a pair of lips John Hart wanted to nibble lightly.

“Don’t eat that,” John said. “Not until after I show you the footage.  It’s worse than you think.” The image of a bald, sightless child trapped in an atmosphere of ammonia and other poisons flashed in Ianto’s mind.  The biscuit dropped to the floor with a soft crumbly sound.

“Worse?” John nodded.  “How could it be….”  He trailed off because John’s eyes had filled with tears and spilled over.

“Much, much worse,” said John. They looked at the scattered mess of cookie and raspberry jelly on the floor. “It’s lucky you’re past the vomiting stage.”

Three minutes into the footage, Ianto realized that John Hart had better technical and observational skills than Tosh joined with Jack’s leadership ability and a startlingly impressive understanding of intergalactic history, politics, and anatomy. He was glad to be past the vomiting stage.

“How did you learn all this?” Ianto asked, impressed.

John smiled.  “I’m naturally good, but I work at it as well.”  Then he looked down.  “You don’t live as long as I have in this line of work unless you’re good and you work at it, Eye Candy.”

When the footage finished, Ianto realized that he could easily forgive Jack for killing his grandson.  That there were worse horrors, horrors so profoundly awful that he would happily kill his niece and nephew and live with the unimaginable guilt to stop them from happening. For the first time, he understood why Jack almost shot him when they found Lisa. 

“That was grueling,” John said, shaking himself.  “Will you come to a club?”

“I think I’ll stay here and vomit a bit and then cry,” said Ianto.  “I’d prefer some privacy for the last bit.”

“Fair enough,” said John, patting Ianto on the arm.  “Just don’t go trying to kill yourself.  You’re needed.”

John went to a club to find blondes, lots of blondes, but Ianto went out into the night, intending to shoot himself in the head. He didn’t, though, because that was the kind of thing Jack had done and he wanted to be his own person. “Three,” he wrote in his diary when he got back to his flat. 

The next day, he found a note in the diary in John’s handwriting.  _That’s enough, Eye Candy.  Accept it and move forward._ Ianto smiled at the note and then threw all of John’s old clothes into the bin.

 

 


	13. Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John walks under the stars because he doesn't have the heart to sleep with any blondes. He rescues the stained t-shirt from the bin.

**John**

Even though he was not a killer, Eye Candy turned out to be a natural Time Agent.  The eidetic memory helped, as did the retiring personality.  He blended like wallpaper into any situation. He had picked up a great deal merely being around Jack—or Blue, which was his birth name.  No one else knew that.  Even Grey had forgotten it, if he was still alive. John hoped he wasn’t. 

As John wandered about Ianto's flat, cleaning up and planning a grocery list, he considered his own experiences with Grey.  It **_had_** been too neat and clean that Grey was the only one alive in that horrible place.  He’d been a plant. A trap for Jack. The Face of Boe must have long since discovered that…because he had been the one who ensure that the creatures would be destroyed.  John's insides clenched when he considered all the things the The Face of Boe asked of him, knowing that they were not at an end.

Of course, the Time Lords eventually found out about the TARDIS that the Face of Boe stole for John. “You should be punished,” the Time Lords told him, but instead they gave him an assignment.  A highly dangerous and unpleasant assignment.  And a second TARDIS.  Which told him that The Face of Boe had intervened on his behalf or maybe Ianto’s.

John hoped Ianto poked through that wrist band thoroughly before Jack got to it.

If only he could enlist the aid of one of the Jacks.  Between the three of them, they might actually be able to destroy the 4-5-6 and deal with Them.   

And possibly have some amazing sex in the down times, but perhaps that was too much to hope.  John shelved the desire.  He and the original Jack had already had a series of blindingly pleasurable encounters.    

John hoped Ianto would only try to kill himself once, to test it.  No point in denying the truth.  Not like Jack, who killed himself again and again, fighting the inevitable.

 John went to a few clubs and attracted dozens of blondes with his 51st century pheromones, but his heart wasn’t in it after he’d been back with Jack, and he took a long walk alone under the stars.  He marveled at how small those points of light appeared and how they made him feel even smaller.

He came across Ianto’s diary when he returned and saw the entry “three,”  found a note saying Ianto would sleep at Torchwood.  John had no way of knowing it had been Ianto’s way of recording the number of times Jack had shattered his heart.  He did, however, note that Ianto didn’t mention a thing when he salvaged the red jacket and his favorite stained t-shirt from a bin.

 


	14. Just you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack returns to Torchwood to find out what Ianto really wants.
> 
> Jack POV... this is still the Jack made up of leftover bits from the explosion.

 

**Jack**

It had taken him a few days to find and kill Grey.  Even John didn’t know that Jack had injected his errant brother with a radio tracker.  This time, they fought to the death and both of them lost. Jack burned the body, scattered the ashes, and then went to see Gwen.  She had been with his other self—Original Jack—and knew how Ianto died. 

Gwen had been much less nagging and troublesome than he had expected. Hardly a screech or demand.  Instead, she hugged him, long and hard, and did whatever she could to help with no complaints. She’d even told him everything she remembered about that horrible day without arguing and needing to be asked three times and convinced that Jack wasn’t up to something.

“You wouldn’t say anything, Jack,” she insisted.  “Why are you asking me?”

“Just procedure,” Jack said, trying not to think of himself as Jack #2.  “Paperwork.  You know.”

“You’re not going to retcon me or Rhys?”

“You don’t seem to know anything, so I don’t need to.”  Gwen was satisfied with this.

“I’m not running it on my own, Jack. Torchwood. I’m out.”  Jack looked at her.  “Ok.  I’ll feed Myfanwy.” Jack raised an eyebrow.  “I’ll ask Rhys to feed Myfanwy, but other than that I’m out.”

“All right,” Jack said, knowing that he’d need a new team. He’d gone back then… back to where he and Estelle had promised to stay together for life, back to the block where he’d lived with Angelo, back to the warehouse where Ianto had stored Myfanwy.  That took a couple of days. Then he went to the building where Ianto died, the hangar where his other self had killed Steven.  He hadn’t been there… he’d been a smear of blood, crushed bones, and a few cracked teeth at the time, but he’d heard enough to feel guilty.  He wished he had a TARDIS to go back and visit Ianto when they were still together, just to remember how it felt.  Coming back that last time had left him feeling flatter and more distant than usual.

He went back into Torchwood at midnight, hoping to cobble together a place to gather his thoughts and words because he had to see Ianto and explain himself.  He remembered everything being destroyed and was shocked to see complete damage only at the surface.

Down below, some damage was evident, but everything in the Hub seemed to be working.  “I did a better job than I thought I would have,” he said, scaling the steps to his office, past the broken windows that had been carefully replaced, except for one that had been taped back together, clumsy patches punctuated with precise reinforcements.  He touched that one, the window he and Ianto had leaned against the first time they kissed.  It wasn’t like him to be so sentimental, and his throat closed when he realized that Ianto had really been dead, and his other self had to manage that grief.  He patted a small lump in his pocket.

His room was almost as it had been, and his bed was occupied.  Odd.  John hated it down here—hated feeling closed in after that 5-year time loop—so it wouldn’t be him.  Jack hoped it wasn’t a weevil; not all of them had been lucky enough to get back through the Rift and the remaining ones were exceptionally cranky.  Then he saw the packets of jammy dodgers on the side table. 

It was Ianto, curled up around Jack’s pillow in his underwear, softly weeping in his sleep, talking to his dad, of all people. Jack’s heart went liquid in his chest.  He was across the room in an instant, hand on Ianto’s shoulder.  “Ianto?”  Ianto thrashed and gasped, gulping back sobs.  “Hey, Ianto?”

“Da?” Ianto asked.  “Da?”

Gods, he was still so thin. Jack gathered his fragile lover into his lap.  “Ianto, wake up.  It’s me.”  Ianto gasped awake.

“Jack?”  Ianto was bewildered at first, then mortified.  “I didn’t mean… your bed.  I’m so sorry.”  He moved to get up and Jack remembered the last time Ianto had surprised him by waiting in this bed.  Jack had accused Ianto of trying to hound him into marriage.  Perhaps Ianto was right to be upset with him.

“No, Ianto,” Jack tightened his hold, palm over Ianto’s chest, kissed Ianto’s forehead. “Please don’t go. I can sleep on the couch if you want to be alone. Are you all right?  Do you want anything?” 

“Just you,” Ianto said, and Jack realized that he didn’t have to go back to find a time when this beautiful young man loved him.  

Jack traced the side of Ianto’s face with quivering fingers. “I’ve missed you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to take care of you.” Ianto’s face puckered and he cried, really cried, for the first time since realizing he wasn’t dead.  Jack gathered him close, stroked his hair and rubbed his back. “I’m sorry, Ianto.  I’m so sorry. I love you,”  he breathed in the remembered scent of Ianto’s body, now mixed with something dreadfully familiar. “I do.  I love you.”

“I-I know,” Ianto bit out between shuddering breaths.

A broad smile spread over Jack’s face.  “I was about to offer to be a couple if you wanted,” Jack said, kissing his forehead.  “But not after that exhibition. You are totally not Han Solo.  Maybe Chewie.”

“I hate the word couple anyway,” Ianto said.  Jack chuckled and kissed Ianto’s head again.

“So you said.” Jack picked up a clean handkerchief from the side table.  “You’ve been hard at work, I see.”

“Yes, sir,” said Ianto, wiping his face, rubbing his hand on the damp pillow, then flipping it over.  “I didn’t even have to break into anything.”

Jack smoothed Ianto’s hair from his face, rubbed his arms and back and legs, as if checking to see that everything was still attached. “Thank you.  How do you feel?”

“Generally fine, sir.” 

“You know I love it when you call me that, but leave out the ‘sir’ for now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jack knelt by the side of the bed and rooted in his pocket.  At first, Ianto thought he’d dropped something.  “Ianto, I’ve been married before, but never to a man, and never to anyone who I thought could live as long as I can, so it’s never meant as much to me as this does….” 

A monitor behind Jack lit up, but he ignored it.  “Jack?”  Ianto, took Jack’s shoulder, tried to interrupt.  “I don’t think…”

“It’s all right, Ianto. You don’t have to answer right away.” Jack took Ianto’s hand, pressed the ring into it.  “I know it’s sudden, and I know you’re still angry with me,  and I’ve done things you may never forgive. I don’t blame you if you can’t, but Ianto, I love you, and I want to be with you.”

“Sir…” Ianto closed his fingers over the ring.  “Please. This isn’t the right time…”

“Ianto, I’d like to ask you…” Jack continued to stammer.

“Sir, not now…”

“Jack!  Good! You’re back!”  John Hart burst through the doors, caught sight of the scene before him. Jack on one knee, Ianto only half dressed, tangled in the bed sheets.  “Oh, sorry!  Were you about to attend to Eye Candy’s carnal needs?  I’ll go back up to the flat. Unless you need a third?”  Jack threw a book at him,  a cushion, and then a half-empty packet of jammy dodgers, scattering biscuits over the floor. “See you tomorrow, then?” John turned and left.

Ianto took Jack’s hand. “You’re with him, right?  The other you? You went back to him after I died.”  Jack looked down at their hands.  “He loves you and you would have needed that after what you’d done.  He found your brother.  Told you it wasn’t your fault. He made things right with me for burying you alive.”

“I think so.  He hasn’t wanted to tell me what I did do.  But something happened.”

Ianto looked down at the wrist band.  He’d erased a few things—or actually moved them because his tidy mind resisted the destruction.  The records of the House of the Dead, for example, which John would later show Jack on the sly. “And we don’t know what happens if the two of you come together? Your two halves?”

“No.” They looked at each other for a long moment.  “I am sorry, Ianto. Can you forgive me?”

“Yes.” Ianto cupped his cheek in a hand.  “Were you asking me to marry you?”

“I was, but I see your point about John. Let’s be … whatever we want to call it for now.  I’m sorry I was such a jerk to you about that. And I’m sorrier that I can’t offer my whole self to you.”

Ianto nodded, biting back some emotion Jack couldn’t identify. “Maybe we could have a bit of a shag? To celebrate this new understanding?  Maybe more than a bit.”

“Will you be all right?  You’re still so thin.”  Jack took a deep breath.  “I’ve been terrified of hurting you.  I was afraid to touch you.”

Ianto grinned, but didn’t say that Jack hadn’t always shied away from pain. “Maybe not your more athletic moves… and no magic markers,  Jack Horny,” Jack blushed, and Ianto smoothed back his hair and kissed him.  “I didn’t know you did that. It’s adorable.”

“John loaded that video where you could find it?”  Jack blushed even redder.

“It was only fair after he saw all those pictures of me.  It was quite eye-opening.” Ianto winked.  “I didn’t realize how gentle you were being with me.”

The air suddenly seemed to shimmer with their mutual desire. Jack’s eyes went dark, “I’ll show you gentle,” he whispered, then grew serious.  “Ianto… I can’t, until I tell you…” Ianto’s heart melted.  It was exactly the right thing to say.  “It isn’t fair for you not to know….”

“I know.  I know about your…how you saved the children,” Ianto said, twisting his wrist.  Jack’s eyes and mouth went round.  “Yours. John thinks… actually he may think I recognized it.  I’m sure it’s what he intended. Do you want this back?”

Jack shook his head.  “I must have had a good reason to give it up. What am I wearing?  The other me?”

“I don’t know,” Ianto said.  “You—the other you—asked John to bury this with me.”

Jack looked sober. “He doesn’t know what John was planning to do then,” he said.  “He thinks you’re dead. Ianto, I would never have wanted you to see…” 

Ianto’s eyes filled with tears. Jack had shared more secrets with him than with anyone else (much unwittingly because it had taken quite a while to realize how intelligent Ianto was), but some secrets should be kept. “I guessed.  It’s all right, Jack.  I… I promised John I’d help him destroy the 4-5-6.  He showed me…”  They stared at each other, horror mirrored in each others’ eyes, making them, for the first time, equals. 

Then Ianto shook himself.  “I’d really, really like that shag now.”

Jack smiled.  “I think I can oblige.  How do you want…?”

“Surprise me,” Ianto said.

“By the way, was that a yes?”

“Of course. What about my shag?” Ianto said, slipping the ring on his ring finger, then moving it to his middle finger and finally his thumb.  Jack pulled a leather cord from a pocket. 

“I thought we’d need this.” Ianto’s face clouded once again, and Jack remembered how often he’d seen that troubled little look and ignored it. But Jack took the ring and threaded it on the cord, and tears rose in Ianto’s eyes. “I said I’d show you something.”

“I’m just glad you’re back and I’m well enough to do you justice.”  Something about that made Jack feel the slightest prickle of sadness, as though all Ianto wanted was the shag.  And then Ianto reached up and kissed him, and Jack felt nothing but the love and desire pouring into him and realized that for right then it was enough.

 


	15. Secrets and viruses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wanders in to find Jack #2 and Ianto post-shag.
> 
> Jack is annoying.
> 
> John POV

**John**

John returned to the Hub late the next morning, and found Jack (#2 he told himself, so as not to feel jealous) still in bed, holding Ianto while he slept.  John swallowed, unaccountably moved--it was unlike Jack to hold a lover in that way.  Jack slipped away and Ianto pretended to be asleep.

“Eye Candy looks healthier,” John said, while Jack put on pants.  “Something in the way you moved?”

Jack snorted. “Unlikely. Why is he still so thin?  It’s been over a week.  I got better right away.”

John shrugged. “That virus was brutal. It took a full day and a bit for you recover. If I understand things correctly, you are the way you are for entirely different reasons than Eye Candy here.”  John’s eyes flicked to Ianto, clutching the sheet.  “He needed to clear the virus. And he hasn’t been sleeping well.  He’s used to having someone in the bed with him, and _I,_ apparently, am not a suitable substitute.”  Jack bristled at the schoolmarmish tone.  “Look, Jack, I know you….”

“Thank you for not throwing anything in my face, John,” Jack sighed. “Is this because of the 4-5-6?  Is that why they let you save him? As your helper?”

John went grey. “No, Jack. It’s other things, er people, ah _entities,_ in fact.  We have a special sort of a...”

Jack uttered a surprising number and variety of curses, even by John’s liberal standards.  “How could you…”  Jack hissed, then threw up his hands.  “Look who I’m asking.  What the hell, John?”

John shrugged again. “It’s part of my rehab, making amends to those I’ve hurt by my actions.”  John looked at his feet.  “It never seems to work out that well, though.”  Ianto opened his eyes and rolled them. “Oi!  Don’t roll those pretty eyes at me, Eye Candy.  You’d be worm food right now if I hadn’t agreed to all this folderol…”

“I know,” said Ianto.  “But apparently, you timed all of this rather carefully, which is not like you.”

John nodded.  “If it all works, Eye Candy.  Now tell Jack what you discovered..besides that unsecured folder of Eye Candy porn.”  Ianto sat up.  “Oh no,” John whispered, catching sight of the ring.  Ianto shook his head slightly, and Jack looked back sharply.

“What the f*ck?” Jack demanded.  “Since when do **_you two_** keep secrets from **_me_**?”

“We have to do _something_ while we’re queueing up for your affections,” John said. Ianto gave him a foul look, and John nearly melted at the sheer adorableness of him. The sensation was interesting, but John shelved it for the time being.

“I’ll put some clothes on and we can explain,” Ianto said.  

“No need for that Eye Candy,” said John.  “Nothing we haven’t all seen before.” Jack laughed, and Ianto muttered that he wasn’t sure which of them was more annoying, but John suspected strongly that, in that exact moment, it wasn’t him.   And that thought saddened him, even as he turned away and Jack moved forward to smooth Ianto’s ruffled feelings.

 


	16. Sweet sorrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which:  
> Ianto lies to Jack #2, then decides to prevent Miracle Day  
> Jack #2 and John go off to fight the 4-5-6  
> Ianto POV

 

**Ianto**

It was hard lying to Jack, any Jack, about his feelings but even harder with the weight of an engagement—or possibly couple—ring around his neck.  Ianto thought he knew, without being told, that John Hart had come back and saved him because some future Jack had asked him to. John had explained a few things, right after they drank all the liquor in the Hub the evening after John showed him the real 4-5-6.  John had to tell Ianto about Them.

“So he stayed here all alone for six months and then tried to kill himself because he missed me?”  Ianto willed back the tears when John gripped his forearm. “He didn’t run right out and replace me?”

John nodded.  “I don’t think you’re replaceable, Eye Candy.  He settled for me eventually, but he was still that torn up about you.” 

“And I…or whatever version of me the Rift created, saved him?  Left him here all alone, again?”  Ianto knew reflexively that he would have saved Jack, but he marveled that Jack’s conception of him was so intelligently selfless. 

“A Rift can only work with the energy we give it.  Jack has a lot of energy.”  John took a deep breath.  “He put a lot of energy into you.  I don’t think he’s ever loved anyone quite the way he loved—and probably still loves—you.  You let him be himself… helped him see that part of himself again.”

“Not the way you do,” Ianto said, without thinking. John took his hand away. “He’s never even told me his name. He told you all about himself.”  Ianto’s eyes found the floor.  “He’s told other people he loved them.  He told you, didn’t he?  If he didn’t tell me, maybe he didn’t.”

Surprised, John thought this over.  “I’m not sure he ever said _he_ loved _me_ ,” he said.  “And I’m sure he was uncomfortable telling you he loved you for the first time while that child he’d handed over was watching.”

Ianto gasped.  “ ** _He_** handed over? **_Jack_** gave that child to them?”  John nodded.  Ianto felt his face work as he fought back tears.  It hadn’t been in Jack’s wristband so that Ianto understood, and he wondered how many other things he missed.   John took his hand and Ianto gripped hard. “And he didn’t want you here because you know who he used to be…really used to be…before,” Ianto said slowly.   “A man who gave children away not knowing what would happen to them.”  John rose to check the desks for any additional bottles, found two labelled “Adam” and brought them back.  “So he wasn’t sending you away.”  John handed Ianto a  bottle.  “He was sending that Jack away and he had to send you away because you knew the real him.”

“I was such a fool for him,” said John, “I still love him, but I knew the old Jack. You need to understand.  Something happened to him. Something horrifying and terrible, to make him into what he is now. I don’t know what, but it was after he and I….  He’s different now. Flatter. He’s been deeply, deeply wounded.  He sent me away the instant we came together, and not just to protect you lot. He was afraid, ashamed of what I would see in him. Desperate not to be pitied.”

“You’re the only person I know he’s ever really been himself with,” Ianto said.  “His original, real self.  And you love him.”

“I genuinely do,” said John.  “I will never forgive myself for what I did to you lot.”

“He doesn’t think he deserves to be loved, though, because of the things he’s done.  He thinks it was wrong, but he loved the world so much he killed his own grandson to save it.”  Ianto pushed a button on the Time Agent wrist band, projected an image of Them.  “That’s the sort of thing a god does, not a human man.”  He shuddered. “It’s all a bit frightening, really.”

“Eye Candy, I underestimated you.”

“Everyone else does,” said Ianto. He did not say ‘even Jack,’ as it would have been disloyal.  They drained their bottles in unison and passed out sprawled over the table.

So it was hard, but not impossible, for Ianto to lie to Jack to get him out of the way.  He, Ianto, had once wanted more than anything to run away and build a loving home with Jack and live out a life together.  But, as always with Torchwood, that was doomed from the outset. So Ianto lied and said that he wanted out of everything.  To just do one last thing and then come home to Jack. Ianto listened while John explained that he and Ianto would find the Original Jack and go after the 4-5-6, leaving Jack (#2) to look after Torchwood. 

Jack argued, just enough to be convincing, then gave in.  He pretended to cook a nice dinner that he secretly purchased and, once Ianto fell asleep, left him tied to the bed..tight enough that it would be a job getting loose… then drugged John Hart and left with him in the space ship.  Ianto regurgitated the folding knife John Hart had given him and cut himself loose.

From the Hub, Ianto reviewed the Miracle Day records, discovered that it was all down to some pints of Jack's blood. He took a TARDIS back to 1927 to steal Jack’s blood back from The Family, preventing those events by replacing it with blood he synthesized from a pig. There was nothing to indicate how or why they had gotten the blood. There was no reason for Gwen to have to live with that kind of guilt. 


	17. Return of the Harkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack #1 comes to Torchwood, looking for John Hart.
> 
> (Yes, it's confusing with two Jacks, but the original one was getting a bit lonely.)
> 
> Ianto POV

**Ianto**

 

Ianto went for coffee, and when he got back, a noise caught his attention.

Someone was in the shower, with the door open, letting soapy water collect in a pool on the floor where Ianto would have to clean it up.   He felt a certain nostalgia for the old days before he died, when he had the hope of a long, happy life as Jack’s lover, and then a sinking, the feeling that Jack might always disappoint him no matter how they felt about each other, and no matter what Jack really wanted 

It was the old Jack.  He turned and saw Ianto through the glass, picking up the filthy sodden trousers and draping them neatly over the hamper.  Ianto looked up to see the ashen face of his lover, who collapsed in a horrified, sobbing ball, hands outstretched, grasping for the waterproof gun Ianto had moved a few days before.  Jack, convinced that Ianto was a shapeshifter or a ghost, had tried to kill him.

“It’s not there, Jack,” Ianto said.  Jack #1 reached into the cubby where the alien cage was kept and came up with a bar of soap.  His feet pedaled as he tried to back through the shower stall.  Ianto used his wrist band to turn off the shower and tossed Jack #1 a towel.

“Who are you and what are you playing at?” Jack #1 demanded.  “He’s dead and gone.  Even that ghost.  Why are you doing this?”

“It’s me, Jack,” said Ianto.  “John…”  And Jack’s face resolved into a look of helpless confusion.

“You saw John?” Jack left the towel on the floor of the shower and came forward, naked and dripping. “Ianto? How did he…”  Ianto understood, suddenly, why John had been willing to risk imploding the universe to help this poor, shattered soul.  He handed Jack another towel.

“I don’t really know.  He said he slipped an antiviral into my coffee supply and then kept working.”

“Is it really you?”  Ianto projected his vital information.

“You’re reading as part Time Lord and part….oh my god.”

“That would be you, Jack,” Ianto said.

“I never thought,” Jack said, and let his face crumple.  “Ianto, I’m so sorry. I never wanted this for you.”  Ianto eased closer, closed Jack in an embrace, and let the wounded soul sob against him.  “Did he find out what They want?”  Ianto sighed inwardly, because it was the wrong thing to say just then, the first time seeing his dead lover come back to life. “Is John all right?”

“Yes.  I think so,” said Ianto.   Jack lifted his head enough to see the ring hanging around Ianto’s neck and recoiled as if burned.  “Is that an engagement ring?”

“Yes, Jack,” said Ianto, kindly, reaching out for Jack’s hand, but Jack flinched away.

“That was my…  How did you? Where did you… who gave this to you?”

“It was you,” Ianto said, moving forward again, taking Jack’s hand.  “It’s a long story.”

“I missed you,” Jack said.  “I forgot how much I felt. I thought I was just marking the end of my time at Torchwood.  The Doctor was due back any time…”

“I know,” said Ianto.  

“You’re supposed to say that after ‘I love you,’”  Jack said.  Ianto winked.

“I love you, too,” he said.  “Let’s go fight aliens.”

“I’d like some reunion time first,” said Jack, fingering the ring around Ianto’s neck. Ianto, who usually responded to such requests with enthusiasm, felt sadly disappointed.  It was entirely the wrong thing to say.  Jack hadn’t hugged—or kissed –him, asked how he had been or why he was so thin. Ianto had been given a new chance at life and he was not going to make the same mistakes he had before.

“Are you with John?” Ianto asked.  “He hasn’t said anything explicit.  Or, he has said any number of explicit things, but not about you.  It would make sense.”   Jack stepped back. “He cares about you, and he has access to a space ship.”

“So he’s here?  You’re speaking?” Jack asked, eagerly, it seemed.  Ianto waited.  “We… ah, and he, ah, left.  I thought it was just a tiff at first.”

“He’s been doing something for you. Something important. Did you come looking for him?” Ianto said patiently, as if to an errant child.

“I thought you were OK with the cheating,” Jack said.  _Wrong answer,_ Ianto said to himself, recalling with vivid clarity the vast number of wrong answers Jack had given him during the time they had been lovers. “You used to joke about it with Gwen.”

“I put up a good front.  And, ostensibly, at that time, I was more than a shag on the side,” Ianto said, “Which I would not be now.”

Jack sighed.  “Let’s go fight aliens.”  A better, answer, Ianto had to admit, but still not the right one.

“Good choice,”  Ianto said.  “Let’s go.  But first, I need to give you back something you’ve been missing.”

Jack lay quietly while Ianto transfused his old blood back into his arm.  On the fourth pint, he began to weep. Ianto pressed a hand against his forehead.  “Jack? What is it?”

“I can feel it all again.  The blood remembered.”  He closed his eyes. 

Ianto, who had no idea what Jack was talking about, held his hand at first, but Jack started to sob, keening almost like a wounded animal. “Oh, Ianto, I loved him.  I loved him so much.  I did nothing but good to him.  Why would he let them do those things to me?” Ianto had never seen Jack like this, so vulnerable and open, and he surprised himself by first wondering what John would want him to do.  Ianto took Jack in his arms to have his cry out.  When Jack stopped crying, he grabbed Ianto’s bottom and slid a hand up his thigh.

“Jack, I’m flattered, but I don’t want you getting overly excited while we have work to do.”

“You’re not letting that ‘shag on the side’ thing go, are you?”

Ianto  thought of the tender lovemaking that followed his reunion with the other Jack.  And then the toe-curling makeup sex after he’d been so annoying. The words of love.  Then of the kindness John had shown in caring for him.  He’d even offered to retcon Ianto after helping him in the loo, and then, when Ianto objected, retconned himself instead.

“No,” said Ianto.  “Not letting go of the shag on the side thing.  One day you’ll thank me.”

 

*+*+*+*

 

“You have a TARDIS?”  Jack was surprised.

Ianto shrugged.  He wasn’t going to get into details.  If Jack had missed things on the scan, let him figure it out. “John left another way.”

Ianto watched Jack consider his adventures with the Doctor.  “Idris was always rather picky about who could pilot her.”

“So is Danris,” said Ianto.  The TARDIS shimmered into the shape of a flying saucer, then a phone booth, then a US-style “Photomat” before settling into an iridescent cube.

“Where did they go?” Jack asked.

“They went to the 4-5-6,” Ianto’s heart throbbed when Jack paled.

“I can’t let you go back there,” Jack said, gripping his arm.  “I can’t go through that again.”

“You can’t ‘let’ me do anything,” Ianto said.  Jack’s face broadened into a smile. “I’m an adult, as you told Gwen. And it’s my decision.”

“You are so hot right now, Ianto Jones,” Jack said.

Ianto grinned, but in the back of his mind a small voice said ‘wrong answer.’  He fingered the ring around his neck.

 


	18. Meanwhile 4 -or- Blood and Film

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gods discuss Jack's latest activities.

“The blood remembered?”  Thor asked.  “That seems rather odd.”

“Extremely odd,” said Bran. 

“Odd, indeed,” said Ra.  “Very odd.”

And then, as if in answer, Od appeared.  He had not been seen for some long time. “Is she here?  I’ve been trying to avoid…” Od said, craning his neck to look for Freyja.  “She’s just so… logical lately.  None of that reassuring weeping.”

“You never liked that either, as I remember it,” said Thor, Od’s old friend. 

“‘Too whiny’ I seem to recall, but I’m not getting in the middle of your marital squabbles,” said Ra. 

“The blood remembered.  It does seem strange,” said Odin, changing the subject.

“What is this rehab?” Od wanted to know. 

“It’s a treatment for addiction,” said Thor, “Like too much drinking or sex.”

“That’s just ridiculous,” said Zeus and Odin together.  “How could you possibly have too much sex **_or_** drink?”  Thor pointed out that too much drink could impede the sex and they devolved into a technical discussion that bored the others until Bran said that _the Bacchae_ certainly suggested that some moderation might be a good thing, at least for mortals.

“Oh, well, for _mortals,_ ” Zeus conceded. 

“I don’t see the point of rehab for us, either,” said Shiva.  “But more importantly, the film festival is starting, if you’re interested.  Is that Od? Freyja had been looking for you. I’m not sure if she still needs to see you, though.”  The others smirked, but wisely said nothing.

Od looked at his feet. “Ganymede said there was a message. Will my wife be there? At the film festival?”

“Probably not,” said Shiva, “She’s on a trip with Athena collecting information regarding these new immortals from Wales and they’re not expected for a few days.  We’re trying something new for the film festival: alternating costume dramas and French action films.”

“That sounds delightful,” Od said.  “Are you including _Pride and Prejudice?”_

Shiva scanned the list, “It depends on which one you mean.”  Od bent over the list, muttering about Colin Firth.

“What is this strange script?” Od asked.

Shiva sighed.  “Hieroglyphics.  Nut refuses to learn Sanskrit.” 

“But surely runes…”  Odin heard the word rune and began to agree until Zeus broke in with a thunderbolt.

“We agreed to stick with the hieroglyphics until we developed a rune translator.”

“My name is Zeus and I’m a sexaholic,” Ganymede said in a high-pitched voice, then dissolved into giggles.

“That’s enough out of you,” said Ra, fondly.  “Silly creature. Who’s running the projector?”

Bran broke away from Thor.  “I don’t think we need a projector.  I found some better technology.  Nut is impatient to begin.  Apparently, she rather liked that Jean Reno in _The Professional_.” 

Penarddun dropped a book. “I love Luc Besson,” she said.  “Almost as much as Harry Potter.” 

They hurried out together.

 


	19. All work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John negotiates with the 4-5-6. 
> 
> Ianto helps from behind the scenes while Jack #2 manages refugees from the terrible creatures who destroyed his childhood home.
> 
> After things settle down, Ianto asks John for relationship advice.
> 
> John POV

John nearly covered his face with a palm. The 4-5-6 had proven laughably easy to manage once their goals had become clear.  All they wanted was drugs.  How hard was it to manipulate junkies? They were—junkies.  Prone to violence, certainly, but after only one thing.

If only the idiots in the earth governments had just let Torchwood (or the Time Agency) handle things in the first place rather than engaging in all that stupid showmanship.  John could not imagine believing that other species were somehow more benevolent and enlightened than humans.

Of course, as a man with a very flexible moral compass and a taste for thrill-seeking behavior, John saw absolutely nothing wrong with a whole species drugging itself into oblivion.  Using the live young of other planets to do it was, however, a bit of a no-no.  John was able to separate these problems out in a way the 4-5-6 understood.  Drugs: good. Eating live sentient young: bad.

 _Posturing government idiots._ He messaged Ianto. _Just find out what they want and then give them the damn hormones. How hard is that?_

 _They could get the hormones from just organs.  Maybe a synthetic hormone farm?  Use genetic manipulation to amp up the levels?_ Ianto messaged back. _Sending data on existing alien technology now._ John marveled again that Jack managed to attach such an efficient and clever young bit of eye candy.

“Why can’t you produce the good hormones yourselves?  Synthesize them?” John suggested.  He drew plans and documents out of his sleeve.  “You could grow your own organs to use. Have total control. No more fiddling about with negotiations and threats. Total control.” 

“We like the children.”  The 4-5-6 did not understand. “The humans starve and beat them. We requested only their surplus, based on population calculations.  We accept the faulty.  It is beneficial to them as well.”

John saw, in his mind’s eye, the horror of a moralistic human society that ‘just says no’ to drugs. The fear of superior weaponry.   None of that mattered to him, though. He didn’t let these ridiculous language barriers stump his negotiations.  And he didn’t make Jack’s mistakes, even though they were understandable: giving in without asking enough questions and then trying to strong-arm them.  Thankfully, Jack had told him everything in those first emotional days after leaving Torchwood.

Ianto, working from inside the Hub, operated the translator and sent John the information he needed to make attractive (and ammonia-proof) informational cards that outlined a few basic points.  Then he convinced the two TARDISes to communicate, even though they were rarely on good terms with each other.

Once again:   

  * Hormones: good.
  * Eating live sentient young: bad.
  * Solution: get better hormones and more hormones.



John marveled at Ianto’s attention to detail, his ability to anticpate the needs of the negotiation.  Ianto had the TARDIS do the printing for him—and of course introduced a crucial flaw in the logic to appeal to their audience. 

“Your pleasure could be heightened and controlled,” John pointed out. Ianto made more posters.

  * Hormones: good
  * Old children: less good hormones
  * Better hormones: more good



“If you use the right technology.  What you have here is quite old.”  He pointed to the gas masks.  “These children are no longer healthy.  That’s why you needed new ones? The hormones are of lower quality?” 

When it became clear that John Hart was trying to find them as many hormones as possible and not just senselessly hoarding children that would have starved to death anyway, the 4-5-6 became interested.  Very interested.  “This is superior to our current arrangement.  We are pleased.”

The 4-5-6 was all for heightened pleasure and, as it turned out, amicable trade relationships. Once they were nicely drugged up, the 4-5-6 in fact became very friendly and civic-minded.  They, too, hated the race that devastated the Boeshane Peninsula and wandered the Galaxy torturing and maiming. The very thought made the 4-5-6 want hormones, lots of hormones.

There was only one issue, however, “You will see to the children?  The starving ones?”

John agreed to do what he could.  The 4-5-6 objected again, and John asked Ianto what to do.  _All species must learn to manage their young?_

Since the 4-5-6 had no interest in genetics or farming, they needed helpers.  Jack #2, who John had left organizing groups of refugees from the attacks by the creatures who devastated his home into work crews, had been very impressed by the plan.  It provided work for the refugees and a stable environment where the 4-5-6 wasn’t out marauding other species.  Jack was unsurprised when John admitted that Ianto had helped him work out the details.  “I never let the others know how much I relied on him,” Jack admitted.  “Even Gwen had no idea what he could really do. He likes to keep a low profile, but he’s good. Very good.”

“Do tell,” said John, winking.  “Those eyes nearly killed me the first time I saw him.”

Jack #2 squirmed, and John’s eyebrows went up.  That was new.  “I’m not sure he’d be comfortable…” Jack said, his expression mirroring John’s surprise. “I even deleted that folder from the computer…. Have I ever said anything even remotely like that to you before?  Have I ever deleted a sex tape?” John’s heart swelled when Jack asked for his reassurance.

“Not unless you were engaged, and then you were covering for the fact that she wouldn’t have sex with you. You have it bad for Eye Candy, Jack,” John said gripping Jack’s forearm. “I’ve never seen you like this.” Jack grew thoughtful and didn’t answer.  John let him be.  He had no idea what had transformed Jack, but he knew it was a worse horror than he could possibly imagine and that Jack’s trials had only begun.

Time Lords arrived to sign the treaty with the 4-5-6 and the refugees. “So they will clone and synthesize just the organs from special cell lines.  Avoid the brains.  We don’t want to be breeding a sentient slave race.  That never goes well.”

“We need those kids back,” John said to the Gallifreyan Delegate.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“We can’t condemn them to…”  The Delegate smiled.   So did Jack, grateful that he didn’t have to admit where they had gotten the children from in the first place. 

“You’ve improved remarkably, John Hart.  Yes, we will get them back if you will find them some peaceful haven.”  John, communicating with Ianto via his wrist band, asked if there was somewhere isolated, by the sea, where the children could be cared for. Ianto made arrangements, quickly and quietly, with the hostel that housed the Rift survivors. John didn’t have to do a thing, until he found out that he’d been made the head of what remained of the Time Agency.

 

**** 

 _How is #2?_ Ianto asked after they had secured the important parts of the negotiations.   _#1 is being a bit of an ass. Thoughts?_

John sighed.  This break in loyalty was new.  Jack must have done something more inconsiderate than usual.   _He’s broken.   He was so afraid after that Angelo that he didn’t tell you he loved you, and then he lost you._

_Angelo?_

_Eye Candy, you are extremely sweet to respect his privacy, especially when he lies to you and leaves naked pictures of your deliciousness lying around where I can find them (thank you for being so beautiful, by the way). Look at the f*cking wrist band._

_Just shut up about those pictures._ John felt the melting sensation again and once again shelved it.


	20. Did you see him?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto finally learns the truth about Angelo.  
> Jack (#1) really opens up. This is the original Jack--the one who live through CoE and Miracle Day and House of the Dead and then took up with John Hart in this AU.  
> Jack decides to go back and speak to Angelo before it's too late, and Ianto helps him.
> 
> Ianto's POV
> 
> Details about Angelo are from "Miracle Day"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the Jacks are confusing, but it will get better soon

 

_“Did you see him?  Did you see Ianto?”_

Ianto wept as he listened to the love and longing in Jack’s voice, speaking to his dying lover, a man who had cherished his memory for nearly a hundred years.  He didn’t only weep for the love Jack had had for him(Ianto), but for the fact that none of his loves could ever be to Jack what he was to them.  He didn’t realize he’d said this aloud until Jack came up behind him.

“Ianto,” Jack (the original Jack) said, standing at his elbow. “You _were_ that to me.”

“But not while we were together,” Ianto said.  “You only understood once I was gone.  Just another picture in your tin… or plastered naked all over your desktop where anyone could see.”

“Angelo wasn’t in the tin,” Jack said.  “He didn’t understand what we had until it was gone. And there wasn’t anyone else to see once you were gone.” Jack had never told anyone the whole story, not even John, but he told Ianto, who listened in horror.  Jack’s lover had turned him over to be tortured and killed again and again because he believed in devils.  No wonder he had wept so hysterically in Ianto’s arms, remembering.

“No wonder you were so….” Words failed Ianto.  But it explained why Jack refused to listen to superstition, even when it was helpful.

“Terrified? Selfish and venal?” Jack reached for Ianto’s hand, but Ianto, unable to trust himself around the pheromones, pulled back.  “Promiscuous?”

“Nice use of vocabulary,” said Ianto. 

“I am sorry, Ianto.  I didn’t want to get too serious.  I knew my time at Torchwood was coming to an end, but you were just so… irresistable.”

“Was I?” asked Ianto.  “Or was I just so desperate and empty that you had pity on me?”

“No,” said Jack, but Ianto could tell that he was lying a bit.  They had both been achingly empty when they took up with each other.  “I was empty, too, and you, Ianto, are beautiful. You gave me hope and affection when I desperately needed it.  Why are you looking at this?”

“It’s a long story,” said Ianto.  “John told me about Angelo. I didn’t realize what had happened to you.”

Jack wiped his eyes. “It was terrible, but at least I forgave him. You saw.”

Ianto grimaced. “Not exactly. I changed everything.  I couldn’t put Gwen through all that if I could help it.  Miracle Day will never happen now.  It’s just a ghost.”

“Then I need to see him.  Angelo,” Jack said.  “I can’t let him die without knowing I forgive him.”

“I knew who you meant. I’ll see if Danris will take us,” said Ianto. “Maybe a time when he’s conscious.”

“We’re already here,” said Jack, setting a warm hand on Ianto’s back. “How do you always know what I need?”

“I work at it,” Ianto said. 

“You make it look easy.  I’m sorry I never told you how I felt about you,” Jack said, kissing his head. “I’m sorry my time at Torchwood was coming to an end when I met you, that I didn’t have more to offer you.”  He turned to leave without saying how he did feel. 

Ianto didn’t bother to ask. Jack had just shared information he’d never shared before, which meant something, and he couldn’t trust himself to remain calm if Jack disappointed him again just now.  “I forgive you,” he said instead.  “I know you were just protecting yourself and me.”

“Very, very hot,” said Jack over his shoulder as he left.

Ianto bit back a sigh.  He missed the other Jack, but the person he wanted to talk to was John.  For the first time, he felt like he really needed advice that only John could give, even if the advice was about Jack.

 


	21. Love and friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John explains a few things to Jack (#2--the one made of bits blown up during CoE and who asked Ianto to marry him in this AU).
> 
> Jack opens up about the very worst night of his life. John reveals his heart a little bit more.
> 
> John and Jack discuss Ianto's finer qualities, love and friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In these chapters, Jack #1 is off with Ianto and Jack #2 is with John. But Jack #1 is sleeping with John and Jack #2 asked Ianto to marry him. So, because Ianto is not interested in being the shag on the side and Jack #2 is in love with Ianto, they are all having to rebuild friendships without having sex.

John wiped tears from Jack (#2)’s face, feeling oddly grateful that Ianto had made him promise to reveal what they were doing. “Angelo?  He…. I swore I’d never get involved with anyone’s superstitions again,” said Jack.  “Not after that.”  He started to explain, but John gathered Jack against his chest and squeezed the moment Jack’s face went grey with the memory.

“No, don’t. You’ve told me enough. Worst night of your life?”

“No,” said Jack, pulling away, patting John’s knee.  “The worst was the night I realized I had to kill Grey. That was the worst.”

“I would have done that for you,” John said.  “It was my fault he knew how to find you.  My pride that got us into that mess. Killed your team.”  He bowed his head, and Jack pressed it against his shoulder. “I’ve not forgiven myself for that, for not realizing it was a trap.”

“You had no way of knowing, old friend,” said Jack, kissing the top of John’s head.  “They were both lost, broken souls.  We all were, except Gwen.  Owen had been dead for weeks and Tosh had been condemned for treason long before you met her. And you found him because you loved me.”

“It was selfish.  I wanted you back, all to myself again,” said John.  “I thought it would win you.”

Jack went very still.  “You were right, John.   I did teach you the trick with the lipstick. I don’t think I really did right by you.”

John shrugged.  “You did your best.  You’re different now.  I just didn’t think you’d be so hard and cold with me.  I thought you’d… it would be, not the same, but that the friendship would still be there.”

Jack’s eyes filled with tears.  “I’m sorry I didn’t have more time to give you right then.  I had lived more than a century since the last time I’d seen you.  And with Grey, I had to do the realizing, myself.  Once I understood, the actual killing wasn’t so bad.  It was my job, not yours.  It was a trap laid for me, not you. It was not your fault.”

John swallowed.  “The other one, er you, couldn’t do it.  He froze Grey again. That’s why he was there, years later, for you to find and deal with.  You’re stronger.  And much kinder.”

Jack paused.  The other Jack had lost Ianto, suddenly and irrevocably, because of a terrible wrong he had committed many years earlier.  Then killed Steven.  “Is that why you brought me back?  Saved Ianto? To deal with Grey?”

“Erm, I was asked, by someone you’d want me to listen to.”  John gripped Jack’s forearm.  “And then he kept asking for you. Eye Candy.  Touching." Jack agreed. "He’s so much more than just the good looks,” John said.

Jack’s eyes twinkled then grew serious when he realized that John might be nursing a crush of his own on Ianto. “He is very loyal,” said Jack thoughtfully, expecting a surge of territorial anger, but feeling only thankfulness that John had been there do do what he, Jack, couldn’t. 

“And intelligent.  He minds the cheating, though,” said John.  “And that you’re so careless with those pictures of him. It’s all so terribly sweet.  Were we ever like that?  Would we have minded?”

“I don’t think so,” said Jack.  “But then, we were trapped in a time loop. It wasn’t like we had much choice.” 

“There’s always a choice, Eye Candy says,” said John.  “You were rather a bastard about it when I found you that time.” 

“The ‘I thought you would _know_ ’ was a total drag, John. It kept reminding me that I’d lived more than a hundred years in exile at Torchwood, of everything I’d lost.  And you threw me off a building, so a bit less whining out of you.  Did you bring me back to save him?”

“No,” said John.  “I brought you both back to help, well, you, in short.  I told you.”

“Thank you,” said Jack as he thought about this.  “I won’t like myself very much, will I?”

“I never think about you in terms of liking because you're a part of my life. You’ll understand him. I still love him… that is, you,” said John.  “Should I take you to see Angelo?  Eye Candy will be there.”

“Ianto,” said Jack, absently.  His wristband buzzed. _ <3  -- I_

John craned over for a look.  “He seems to miss you.” He nudged Jack’s arm.  “Your queue is back.”  This Jack didn’t understand the reference, though, and he saw John decide to leave it alone, not to explain.

“Don’t you miss me? I’m very miss-able. Or do you miss him?”

“I’m here with you.” John shrugged. “It’s the companionship with you more than…”  Jack laughed uncomfortably.  “Seriously. You're a great friend, for all the times you were cold or mean. And you know I’m easily distracted.  Once you’re back together, I won’t stand in your way. I’ll find other things—like blondes—to do, if you being with Eye Candy is what you want, the two of you.” 

Jack looked deep into John’s eyes, expecting to see a lie and instead finding that his friend was telling the truth, that he was willing to give Jack to Ianto if it made him whole and happy.  Jack’s heart swelled with gratitude and affection.  He hugged John. “Thank you, old friend.”


	22. Angelo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelo helps Jack understand his destiny, finally setting them both free.
> 
> Angelo POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the original Jack (the one who lived through House of the Dead and then went back to John Hart because Ianto was gone). 
> 
> In an earlier chapter in this AU, Ianto decided to change time so Miracle Day never happens, and Jack realizes he has to say goodbye to Angelo in person.

Even though, or maybe because, he was an old, old man, Angelo often thought back to the days he had a lover who made his heart and mind and body sing with ecstasy all at the same time. It had happened only once.  

He had betrayed that lover, because of superstition, and yet the man who called himself Jack had taken care of him and sustained him and his family all these years.  The love there had never been equaled in Angelo’s life and he felt the loss of it every day.

He hoped that Jack did not feel the same way, but he never dreamed he would ever learn the truth.  

“Angelo.”

Angelo looked up at the face of the man he had once loved, and his heart sang. “You came back.”  He sent everyone else away, not noticing their troubled or amused or indulgent glances.  Angelo had expected to feel shame at being seen like this, unable to love as a man, but Angelo felt only joy at seeing his beloved Jack once again.  The sorrow at the loss of their beautiful connection would be only for Jack, and Angelo, finally, understood that he might never be able to make amends to Jack, that he would remain always in that debt. 

“I needed to say goodbye,” Jack said.  “I wanted you to know that I loved you.  That I forgive you.”

Angelo stood unsteadily and tottered forward, leaning on the furniture.  Jack took one step, then two, then tenderly embraced the man who had once handed him over for torture because he thought Jack was a devil. 

“I am truly sorry,” Angelo said. "Still.  I think of you often."

“It wasn't your fault, Angelo,” said Jack.  “You didn't understand.”

Angelo looked up and touched Jack’s face with a spotted hand.  “Still so handsome. But this is not the only reason you came.  You seem very, very hurt, my love."  And then Angelo's heart skipped a beat.  Jack needed him. "Can **_I_** help you?”  Angelo saw the relief on that beloved face, Jack's need to talk.  "Tell me.  Tell me what happened."

“We’d better sit down.”

Jack looked into the eyes of the man he had once loved, back when he thought loving was an option, and told him everything. That he had given away children to save the planet and then killed his own grandson.  Angelo listened, and wept, and listened.  His heart grew frightened because he realized he had been the bad lover of a god--the lover who betrayed the god and brought him to death--and that Jack's generosity was the only thing to save him.  

“I am very sorry,” Angelo said, because he had not understood what exactly Jack was in the process of becoming.  “I was so very wrong about you, my beautiful Jack.  Only a god would do these things.”

Jack shook his head and laughed uncomfortably.  “I’m not a god.”

“You’re not a devil, which is the only other option,” Angelo said.  “Perhaps you are still becoming. You’ll tell the boy.  Tell him everything. Tell him what I said.”

“The boy?” Jack thought immediately of Steven, lying under six feet of packed earth.

“That beautiful man who loves you.  He seems like a boy to me now that I am so old.  It took a very long time,” Angelo said.  And then Jack understood that Angelo had been trying, all those years, to find a way to make up for his horrible betrayal. Not to have Jack back, but to see that he was loved, and always finding him alone.  “You will tell him. So I can stop watching out for you. I thank you, my love, for letting me help you, finally, for giving me peace.”

“Ianto?” Jack said.  “But I don’t want him to know…  I had so little heart left when I met him, and I didn't offer him even that.”

Angelo stood.  “You did not want me to know and we see what happened.  Nothing but badness. You’ll help me to my bed. And then you will tell him, the boy.”

Jack helped Angelo to his bed and kissed him and held his hand until he slept.  Angelo never woke again.  Even to tell Jack that the boy he meant was John Hart, who was, as Tosh had once said, a very handsome man.

 


	23. Heading home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack (#1) goes back to Ianto, intending to tell him everything.
> 
> Ianto is distracted, and the conversation veers off topic when Jack accidentally lets slip that Lisa killed Ianto during "Cyberwoman."
> 
> Ianto POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still original Jack... right after speaking with Angelo.

When Jack came back to the TARDIS, Ianto was in the middle of a calculation and didn’t look up, even though he felt that beloved presence (or perhaps perceived the waft of pheromones) instantly.  “Ianto,” Jack said. 

“Yes?” Ianto said, still distracted.  “Did they let you see him?”  Jack didn’t answer.  “Are you all right? Jack?” Ianto looked up, unsure of what he would see, but Jack was simply standing, watching him work.  “What happened?”

“I have to tell you something,” said Jack, “but I’m not sure you’ll like me afterwards.”

“Did Angelo?” Ianto asked.

“I’d tell you to ask him, but I’m fairly sure he’s dead,” said Jack.  “He was waiting for me.”

“I see,” said Ianto.  Normally by this point in any conversation so laced with emotional tension, they would be naked and rutting against each other, but Ianto held himself still.  The effort was less than he imagined it would be. He had forgotten how exhausting it was to communicate with Jack sometimes, how much easier it was to have sex instead.  He pulled up his sleeve.

“Is that ** _my_** wristband?  I asked John to bury that….”

“With me,” said Ianto.  “He did.”

“Only in a manner of speaking,” said Jack.  “I didn’t want you to know…”

“Well, I do,” said Ianto. 

“Do you have….”  Jack paused.  “I was going to ask if you had anything to say, but that seems wrong.  Do you still like me?”  Ianto thought about this for a moment.  The other Jack had fallen to the floor in a spasm of grief when he saw Ianto torn apart by the virus.  Had apologized for all he had learned about Jack’s past.  Had proposed, in a manner of speaking.  Had told him that he loved him.  It made up for rather a lot.  This Jack seemed to feel….entitled to Ianto’s love and respect.  “Did you ever like me?”

“Jack, I love you,” said Ianto.  “I didn’t want to die without letting you know, and you….”

Jack sighed.  “I thought I could bring you back.  I didn’t want to say anything that could not be unsaid.”

Ianto pushed down the indignant questions about why telling your lover of three years that you love him is something that should be left unsaid. “Because you lied to me about who you were?” said Ianto instead.  “I do love you Jack, but I’m not sure I know you.”

“Do you like the other one?”

“Yes,” Ianto said, without thinking.  “A lot.”

Jack’s mouth fell open.  “But why should there be a difference?”

“Because he let me in,” said Ianto.  “Started treating me like a partner and not a servant. Said he loved me.” Ianto felt himself growing upset and stopped speaking.

“John never minded,” Jack #1 said, regretting it immediately. “I told… er, you,”  Jack closed his eyes.  He was blundering into bad waters here.

“Wrong answer,” said Ianto, but more calmly than he expected, then paused.  “What did you mean by bring me back?”

“When Lisa killed you.  I brought you back.”

“You said it was a snog,” Ianto said. “When you brought me home from the country.”

“It was how I did it….”  Jack began, then paused.  He had never told Ianto what he’d done, and he hadn’t bothered to see anyone home.  Had he gone back and mended that evening, the evening he should have looked after the man he’d been shagging?[1]

“Lisa killed me?” Ianto asked.  Jack nodded, stepped closer.  Ianto’s eyes filled with tears. “I thought she loved me.”

“She must have when she was human, Ianto,” Jack said.  “Anyone you loved would have.  You’re very lovable.” Tears started in his eyes.  “I should have told you, should have explained.”

Ianto stood and caught Jack in an embrace. “I’m sorry, Jack,” Ianto whispered.  “Thank you for saving me.”

And with that, Jack relaxed.  “I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I didn’t have strong feelings for you, Ianto.  I hadn’t felt that way for such a long time, nearly a century. It frightened me, but I wanted to be… wanted you to feel safe.  I was responsible for you. And I didn’t want you to feel tied to me.  You were so young.  You still are. I wanted you to have more of a choice. I wanted more for you than Torchwood.”

Ianto squeezed Jack harder.  “I understand.  Thank you for lying about Lisa.”

“Thank you for lying about the 4-5-6.  I couldn’t have born it if they hurt you again.  It’s my fault.  All my fault.”

“I didn’t lie about that,”  Ianto said, stepping away.  

“I don’t understand,”  Jack said.

Ianto took a deep breath.  “Jack, I’ll always love you, but I’m not sure I can marry you. I don’t know you well enough to make such a big decision.  Not now.” Jack kept still, hoping that it would prevent Ianto from saying something that would tear them apart forever.  “But I agreed because I was afraid to hurt you.”

“It’s not what you think,” Jack said.

“I don’t know what to think, Jack, except that you have lived a long, long time.  Longer than any of us and I…”  Ianto paused, searching for the right thing to say.  “I really do love you, Jack.”

“You want to do some living?”  Jack offered. “Now that you have the same curse I do?”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “I’m not so sure it’s a curse as much as a trust, Jack. But I need to see what happens when we bring you together.  You’re also with John. And then I need to see what you want, and what I want.”

“You,” Jack said.

“Right this instant,” Ianto said.  “But part of you wants John, too. I saw you with him.  Or maybe no one.  We need to get to know each other again because I don’t even know what I am any longer.”

Jack smiled then.  “Ianto Jones, you are so hot right now,” he said.  And Ianto smiled back, because, suddenly it was exactly the right thing to have said.

“I know,” said Ianto.  “But I’m not letting go of the shag on the side thing.”

“Thank you,” said Jack.  He winked and they burst out laughing.

“Let me get you back to John,” said Ianto.  “He must be missing you. You’re very miss-able.”

“Does that mean that you miss me?” Jack wanted to know.

Ianto’s voice caught in his throat.  “Really badly,” he choked out.  Jack hugged him and smoothed his hair from his face and kissed his forehead. Ianto felt as though he'd just received a sacrament, and he hardly noticed that they had arrived back in Cardiff.

 

 

[1] Yes….  See “Harassment”


	24. Meanwhile 5 -or- Girl talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freyja and Athena consider book clubs and admitting Ianto to their number. Athena explains spinsters versus virgins.

Freyja nudged Athena. They were watching Jack and Ianto in the scrying pool and braiding each others’ hair.  “A trust?!  We have to have that one.  He’ll have some interesting things to say in book group. I mean, ‘scroll group.”  The goddesses giggled, which was very unlike them, falling against each other more than would have seemed necessary to an observer.

“We shouldn’t make fun of Nut,” said Athena, which sent them into spasms of laughter. 

“I know, but sometimes it’s easy.  She hates anything too ‘postmodern,’”  Freya said, tucking one of Athena’s braids into a blue silk ribbon. 

Athena sighed, “Which, for her, means anything after 1000 BCE. Except, apparently, Jean Reno.”

Freyja considered this.  “Well, he is a very handsome man. What would you say is Modern?”

“Erm, post 1500 ACE in Europe and North America,” said Athena.  “Oh, and their colonies. Give or take.” 

Freyja went back to her list, which she kept on a Macbook when Nut wasn’t looking.  “I’m beginning to suspect we have underestimated our fathers.”

“You mean my father?” Athena sighed.  “I’m fairly certain he wants the split one because he’s become bored with his old sexual routine. But it seems wrong someone, since the split one is greater than us, or will become so.”

Freyja paused.  “I thought you were a virgin?”

“No,” Athena shrugged.  “Just a spinster, actually.  We didn’t have a word for it.”

Freyja grew interested.  “It sounds better than being married to Od and wandering around weeping while he avoids me.   It’s so depressing.  So who….?”

Athena blushed.  “You wouldn’t know her.  It’s been a long while since she passed beyond.” 

“I can’t imagine leaving you behind,” said Freyja. 

“It was a bit difficult, but….”  Athena suddenly understood what Freyja had meant.  The air around them shimmered.

“Maybe you’d like to visit Shangri-La after we’re done? Explain some of these innovations?”  Freyja was married, but she had relatively little experience with sex and none with passion.  That wasn’t exactly Od’s type of thing 

“I would.”

 


	25. Hillside reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Jack #2 wait for Ianto and the original Jack to return. Jack and John and Ianto and Jack meet on the hillside where Jack left to wander the stars.
> 
> Jack discovers that Ianto knows the true names of many things....including him.
> 
> Then Jack meets his other half.
> 
> There is kissing....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two Jacks come together.

**John**

John hopped from one foot to the other.  “You okay there?” Jack #2 asked.

“No,” said John.  “I’m nervous.  All a-flutter. I don’t know what he’ll say.”

“I had no idea you got like this before we met. It’s adorable. I thought you had blondes to do?” Jack said.  “You love blondes.”

“I said ‘like’ blondes,” John said, finding it odd to talk to Jack about his love for Jack, but odd was better than some of the other alternatives.  The Face of Boe had asked him another favor, and he was dreading it.  “And I do like blondes.  Love is a much stronger word. You know I’ve always been over the moon for you.  I gave you my virginity, and I didn’t even like men that way.”

“Yes,” said Jack, smiling to himself, then patting John on the back.  “Thank you again for that, and also for taking care of Ianto.  It means a great deal to me.” 

John waved this off. “I’ve told you how I feel.  Did you ever love me?” John wanted to know, but he felt oddly neutral, discussing feelings with this Jack.  However Jack felt, John knew where he loved, and it had become enough. 

Jack’s eyes filled with tears.  “Yes, of course.  You were a great wife.  Why else would I have been such an ass to you when you interrupted my reunion with Ianto?  But I was a different person then. I love you now because of everything you’ve done for me and for Ianto, but that’s a new kind of love for me.”

John kissed Jack on the cheek.  “Good.”

“Usually you go for the lips.”

“You gave Eye Candy a ring.  I’m not getting in the middle of that.”

Jack took John’s hand.  “I’m not sure what will happen.  If… Will you look after him for me? Ianto? I don’t want him to back to that dark place." John began to frown. "Please?  I know you have a soft spot for him.”

John nodded. “I’ll do what I can for him. But he’s a grown man. I can only help if he agrees.”  Jack folded John into an embrace.

“Thank you for everything, old friend.  I love you.”

"I love you, too.

 

**Ianto**

They met on a hillside, the one Jack had stood upon when he left the earth to travel among the stars.  Ianto knew it, uttered its Welsh name, and Jack suddenly understood why he had felt unable to live without that loving presence at his side—or without at the least knowing that he had done right in their parting.  “You know,” he whispered.  “You know my true name.”

“Yes,” said Ianto, holding it in his heart, because in that time and that place, names had power, power unknown to earthly men.  “I do. Wait here and I’ll send him to you.”  And Jack trembled because he didn’t know who to expect.

Ianto went to John first, and took both his hands and kissed him on both cheeks.  “Thank you for bringing me back into the world.”

And John said, “My pleasure, Eye Candy. I’d like to say goodbye to him.”  And Ianto nodded.

Jack #2 waited, pale-faced and nearly tearful.  Ianto went to him next.  “I love you, Jack,” said Ianto.  “I always will.”

“I’ve missed you so much.  I’m sorry I never told you about myself,” said Jack.  “And I’m sorry I wasted so much of this chance to be with you again.”

“You did what was necessary,” said Ianto.  “And I love you.”

They kissed then, like lovers long parted and reunited and lovers about to part forever, for they were both of those things.

 

**John**

He left Ianto, feeling as if he had undergone some type of sacrament. Jack’s arms were open when John approached, and he went into them without question.  “Is this goodbye?”  Jack asked. "I feel like we just said hello."

“Not if I can help it, old friend,” said John.

They kissed long and long, like lovers long parted and reunited and lovers about to part forever, like enemies who fall in love and lovers who had once, suddenly bore for each other nothing but enmity and come to love again, for they were all of those things.

And Jack went out to meet himself.

 

**Jack**

He’d never actually appreciated how handsome he really was. Better than a film star, that was certain.  “Gods, you smell great,” Jack said to himself.  “Really fabulous.”

They drank each other in for a long moment. “We need a room.”

“Definitely.”

They kissed.  “You are so **_hot_** ,” they said, and kissed again.


	26. Monogamy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto and John ponder monogamy and the two Jacks.
> 
> John POV.

Ianto met John’s eye as Jacks #1 and #2 locked lips and started tearing at each others’ clothes.  “That was unanticipated,” Ianto said.  “It’s a bit of a letdown, actually.”

“Does that count as cheating or whacking off?” John wanted to know.  “I’m not usually all that bothered about monogamy myself, but it’s an interesting question.”

“No idea,” said Ianto, who appeared to be quite bothered. “Although I am….”  His voice caught in his throat, and John once again felt that melting sensation. This time, he remembered what Jack had asked of him: to look after Ianto.  John took Ianto’s arm and pulled him so he couldn’t see what Jack was doing.

“Don’t look if it upsets you, Eye Candy.  How about we get a nice takeaway?” John asked.  “I’m famished.”

“No,” said Ianto.  “If you’re asking me to dinner, we’re going to a proper place with tablecloths and you’re not to flirt with anyone.” 

John nodded.  “Fair enough, Eye Candy.  Does French suit you?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Ianto.  He turned and saw the two Jacks, who had gotten their shirts off, but John pulled him away again.

“Get out of here,” John said.  “I’ll set up the forcefield for them. 

Ianto looked as if he could have hugged John, but he didn’t.  “Thanks,” he said.

"My pleasure," said John. "I'll see you back at the flat."


	27. Meanwhile 6 -or- Originality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gods and goddesses observe the Jacks. The gods accept John Hart as one of themselves.

 

 

Zeus and Odin watched Jack Harkness make love to himself in their scrying pool. “That’s a new one, you have to admit,” said Odin.  “He’s very creative.”

“Indeed,” said Zeus, tossing scrolls into the pile among the thunderbolts.  “I suppose we have to allow them in?”

Odin shrugged.  “They died and came back from the afterlife, like we did.”

Ra spoke then, “Not exactly like us.  And this John…”

“He reminds me of Loki,” said Odin fondly.  “He’ll be fun in the meadhall.”

Zeus chuckled.  “This John.” He put up his hands.  “Help me, Obiwan!  We need to watch those again after the _Jason Bourne_ film festival.”

Thor set down his hammer to get a better view. “Maybe we should think about something more scenic in between those.  Does that one he know he died?  Trying to save the boy?”

“Likely not,” said Ra.

Athena wandered in then, and the gods looked up sharply.  “Where did these walls come from?  Oh, it’s you Athena.”

“Yes, father,” said Athena.  “Aphrodite wants to know when we can go.  We have work to do elsewhere.”

Odin scowled.  “Our women knew their place,” he said.  Athena fixed him with her stare and he looked down and muttered ‘sorry.’

“Much work to do,” she said, glancing in the scrying pool.  “More men?  Oh! That’s a new one. The Kama Sutra was supposed to cover nearly everything, but that’s definitely novel.” She waved her hand and a scroll appeared and she started taking notes.

“I thought you were a virgin.”  Ra said.

“Spinster, actually, but we never had a word for it,” said Athena.  “And don’t get started on Drupadi.”

Ra smiled.  “I only question you because I enjoy your logic.”  Athena smiled back.

Shiva came in, “I’d really prefer to use a projector…” she said and caught sight of the scrying pool.  “Now that’s certainly original. Athena, did you get that down?”

“Yes, thanks,” said Athena.  “Will you want a copy?”

“Of course,” said Shiva.

Nut appeared briefly, peered into the pool and disappeared, a thoughtful look on her face.


End file.
